A Word of the Day Bromance
by Irene Claire
Summary: What will likely be a rather ridiculous collection of 1-shots (& some epic fails of things MEANT to be 1-shots which grew a bit but still belong here) based on a "word of the day", self-challenge. Expect friendship, whumpage, bromance, fun, potentially some comedy, hurt/comfort, codas. The usual, but with no rhyme or reason ... includes Codas to S7;23 & Finale S7;25.
1. Chapter 1 - Dudgeon

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Because I get bored ... and need to practice one shots (Hahahaha ...) and figured picking a word of the day would provide decent impetus (maybe).

Of course, this first word STINKS beyond all measure, but I vowed to give it a go! Could this word be more obscure? Probably not. And no, this does not mean there will be a story a day ... just a word _**of**_ the day related to " _some_ " day where the plot bunny might feel a need to "entertain" itself by producing a warren of one-shot bunnies.

In short, I have no idea if any of this will go anywhere (especially if the 2nd word is just as bad). I hope that whatever happens is at least somewhat entertaining. You can count on whumpage, bromance and the usual though - including cheesy "plots"!

Typical disclamers apply: not beta'd, not a doctor, not interested in true medical accuracy in any way, shape or form. Just for fun!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Dudgeon.** A feeling of offense or resentment. Anger._

"Sit down, Danny."

"Why?" His partner chuckled and Steve swore his eyes went in opposite directions at the same time his head wobbled on his neck.

"Because ...," and Steve sighed - loudly aggrieved as Danny chuckled again, perhaps a bit more weedy and thin than usual. The fall was going to be a simply matter of time and it would be hard based on the coloring bruise and tiny trickle of blood curving its way down Danny's cheek.

" _Because_ ... you got knocked pretty damned hard in the head. So you should ..."

"Sit before I fall down?" Danny interrupted, laughing out right as if figuring out a very special joke, his eyebrows raised as high as the one finger he used to make his point.

"Yeah," Steve replied, completely exasperated as he jockeyed his attention between his partner and their seated suspect. "That."

"But I'm not going to fall down," Danny said amicably. "I'm not going to fall down because ... I. Feel. Great."

"Daniel." His tone said it all but Danny merely giggled again before he answered Steve in precisely the same irked-sounding tone, minus the severity of expression.

"Steven."

Steve swiped his hand over his eyes, his inability to get to his partner slowly morphing into an absolute feeling of desperation. He shook his head as Danny walked in a complete circle, a stupid smile plastered to his face. He groaned under his breath, glaring at the dangerous criminal he held at bay. Their current circumstances were entirely his fault ... from their obscure location to Danny's rattled brain.

"I swear ... if you so much as twitch," Steve warned the man. "Cuffed or not ... military or not ... self-proclaimed _president_ ... or not ... you're _done_ and it's not HPD who will take you away, but our State coroner."

The man's eyes sparkled in evil mirth and Steve's expression changed again. The man was duly cuffed and technically incapacitated, yet Steve didn't trust his situation one bit. The man was the self-proclaimed leader of his country's military government. He was dangerous. Talented in subterfuge and beyond no act of evil for his own gain.

"I have a word for you," the powerful man said. He was leering, rudely teasing Steve as he glanced towards Danny meaningfully. "Immunity."

"I don't care ...," Steve growled out at first, his ire rising at the man's brazen challenge to claim such a thing under International law, while at the same time, Danny giggled again off to the side when something fell off an over-crowded shelf in the old garage. A chemical smell like paint filled the air as something else toppled over. Evidently bored, Danny kept rummaging about the old barn and based on the smell of what he was knocking about, he'd found old paint cans.

Steve hid his flinch as something else hit the ground with a loud metallic clang, but not the flux of high dudgeon he felt when the cuffed man laughed out loud.

"You! Shut up! And ... Danny, sit the hell _down_!"

"But he's _fine_ ," the man purred nastily.

"He's right!" Danny giggled, boldly pointing at their suspect, all kinds of pleased to have someone on his side it seemed.

"Sit down!" Steve ground out to Danny through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing in anger. He stared hard at the seated man, refusing to look away in case he tried something. Desperately wanting to check on his partner and utterly relieved as the sound of sirens finally ... _finally_ ... reached his ears.

"Danny, sit."

"But he's perfectly fine," the man said again, grinning widely even as Steve practically roared at him.

"Hey! Shut it! Y _ou_ \- just sit there and ... _shut_ _up_!"

"But he's right!" Danny sing-songed happily as he wandered in another circle, rocking to a stop by Steve's side. Steve thought he knew what he was going to say, instead Danny threw his hands out wide towards the side as if ready to hug the world. He was blinking wildly, his eyes glassy even if his voice was incredibly steady.

"Immunity! He's got ... immunity, Steven! Just like ... us! But we've got means ... that ... _that_ he doesn't have. Right?"

"Wrong ... this time," Steve muttered under his breath, still refusing to even chance a glance towards his partner. "Very, very wrong. Our friend here is under arrest for documented evidence of human rights abuse ... torture ... acts against humanity. He'll be extradited within hours."

"Okay. That sounds ... bad," Danny replied lightly, an almost apologetic shrug aimed at the criminal as he wandered away to stand in the doorway to the old garage. He was apparently done with the conversation and content to move on. Steve sensed Danny pausing in the small doorway, his body blocking the light to senselessly announce the actual arrival of at least three HPD units. "Yo, Steve ... back-ups here. Hey ... it's Duke!"

Steve blew out a long, relieved breath of air as Sergeant Duke Lukela and two pairs of HPD officers jogged into the garage. He handed off the criminal with orders to keep the man well in hand and under strict guard until he could be shunted off to the Federal officials. Then he was jogging out of the old garage and into the bright sunshine. By the time Steve reached Danny's side, his friend nearly aimlessly wandering the dusty yard, everything else had been all but forgotten.

"Sit down for me now, _huh_?" Steve asked as he gently took Danny's arm and guided him towards the Camaro where it had been parked near the old, abandoned house. "Please? Just for a minute. The ambulance will be here any minute."

"Such a worrier," Danny said calmly as he let Steve push him into the Camaro's bucket seat. "I'm fine ... better than fine. Don't worry." Nonetheless, his eyes weren't tracking and he was blinking nearly incessantly in the bright sunlight. In fact, his smile might have begun to dwindle just a bit as well.

"Yeah, I am a worrier," Steve agreed, wincing in sympathy as he measured the angry bruise and jagged tear along Danny's hairline. His left pant's leg was stained in white paint, the sharp chemical smell distinctly out of place. His friend had been knocked ten different ways to sideways and Steve could not figure out how he was still managing to be on his feet.

"Steve?" Danny looked around the interior of the car and managed another loopy smile when he realized that Steve had made him sit in the driver's seat. "So hey? It looks like I get to finally drive my own car, huh?"

"Danno ..." Steve started to say something. But the inevitable happened two seconds after Danny uttered those words. He looked up at Steve, and the smile slowly faded from his face. He blinked again rapidly, his expression now confused ... nearly scared. His mouth opened and then closed soundlessly. Pale became a subtle ash-gray color and Steve was reacting on autopilot, honed skills helping him to focus to care for his ailing friend as Danny's eyes rolled frighteningly skywards.

 ***H50** *

Hawk-like, Steve watched Danny from his lanai. After a number of days in the hospital, things were almost back to normal. _Almost_. Upon waking, not only had Danny not remembered what had happened at the remote property, he'd not recalled a single thing about the case or the violent circumstances leading up to the dangerous arrest. That had been disconcerting enough. However, and for the longest time afterwards - what seemed like an eternity to Steve – Danny hadn't recognized _him_. And that had been downright terrifying.

The doctors had no formal explanation for the lapses. Not really and the point became somewhat moot the day it self-corrected itself. Once upon a time, Danny simply didn't know Steve at all and then, he did. Danny's calm, smiling welcome that special morning - and rather innocuous shrug - four days after clearly having drawn a blank on Steve's face and gentle reminders of their friendship had been nearly as traumatic as the initial event.

But only traumatic to Steve and then only somewhat moot because the other odd bogies had slowly revealed themselves.

Danny's baffled look at not knowing his left shoe from his right. The confusion over the color of his car - seriously, black is rather ... _black_. The inability to remember what to call his _badge_. Odd things; strange things which came out of left field at the most perplexing of times. And random? Well, that was an understatement. Rather than being upset though, Danny had swallowed hard, taken it all in stride, and laughed it all off. One could further argue that reaction as odd unto itself, but with most of the things being of a harmless mundane nature, Steve was slowly also reconciling these things with himself.

Plus, once Danny remembered on his own or was reminded or re-learned it, the bogie - whatever it had been - was corrected. It was then easily forgotten as having ever happened at all. Generally, the doctors weren't concerned; in fact, they were more intrigued as if Danny might be a lab rat. Then there was the man himself: Danny wasn't concerned at all. So by then, Steve should also have been a little less wary. Yet, it was a difficult transition. Steve couldn't let any of it go. At least, not entirely.

Danny's overall recovery was slow and occasionally almost childlike. He had killer migraines and was often losing his balance; things which the doctors felt would ease with time. So as he watched his friend now, uncertain and vigilant, Steve forced himself to breathe out a long calming sigh ... and smiled.

And waited.

He'd ordered pizza. Delivery and the order had just arrived. Two very specific and very different pies had been on the menu and now, he was just watching ... waiting to see if Danny might have one of his odd ' _experiences_ '.

Steve cleared his throat as he wandered to the patio table and Danny glanced up smiling as he flipped open one box top and then the second. Steve lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head as Danny's smile fell away and he scowled, looking from one to the other.

"What the hell is that?" He asked as he pointed to the pie in the first box. His nose wrinkled and he leaned over to sniff it with a dubious snort. "Do I ... _like_ that?"

Steve grinned widely, stupidly pleased with himself for having uncovered another accidental blip on Danny's cracked mental radar.

"Half pepperoni and half ... Hawaiian. You know ... pineapple and ham. It's good stuff," Steve said off-handedly. "The other, is plain ... nothing special except for extra cheese. So you tell me, buddy. Which one?"

"You know, Steven," Danny replied as he folded his arms over his chest. "Sometimes I seriously do _not_ appreciate your little tests ... your little experiments conducted entirely at my expense. For example, forcing me to watch Bride of Chucky was not ... I repeat _not_ ... an enjoyable experience."

"Ah, now that's not entirely true!" Steve interrupted as he waggled his finger in Danny's face. "You didn't exactly hate it either because you _did_ laugh!"

Danny mock glared his way, his eyes narrowed, but he failed at fighting a smile. "I laughed ... at _you_!" He countered quickly. "How you can watch that drivel every year is beyond me."

"Every year?" Steve challenged back, his eyebrows now tilted so high that Danny had to laugh. "You remembered ... but do you remember when?"

"Halloween?" Danny answered after a slight pause.

"Halloween it is ... it's a McGarrett tradition," Steve concluded happily. "But ... back to the pizza, Danno. Which one?"

"This is stupid," Danny sniffed an aggrieved kind of sound, his lips pursed as he looked at the pies. He was game though as he considered each, the wrinkle of his nose proof of what he was going to say even before it came out of his mouth.

"Pizza. These two things here ... _these_ ... do not even belong in the same airspace," Danny announced as he gestured emphatically between the two boxes. "Everyone knows that pizza is .. _.uh - something ._.. sauce and dough."

"Something?" Steve asked, his chuckle unavoidable as Danny tore the biggest slice he could from the regular cheese pie. He'd found a second unexpected blip ... harmless enough as usual. And as usual, easily correctable.

"Yeah," Danny mumbled as he took a bite, clearly disgusted with himself for the minor memory lapse. "Something ... this white stuff ... that's it. Pizza is this gooey white stuff, sauce and dough."

Steve snorted at that broken tidbit of knowledge; the snort becoming an all out laugh as Danny twirled a long piece of cheese around his finger to shove it ceremoniously into his mouth.

"Shut up," Danny said. He shrugged, now only slightly disgusted with himself for forgetting a word. "It'll come to me ... and that's all matters because I still know what a real pizza is, babe. And _you_ ... you evidently still ... do _not_."

"Mostly true ... mostly," Steve agreed happily, unwilling to continue teasing his best friend because that was all true. And for now, remembering something as mundane as pizza, and an opinion delivered with that same level of Danny-like snark was damned good enough, too. Steve grinned as he closed the lid to the first box and dug into the plain pizza along with Danny, neatly snaring a slice that was literally dripping with extra cheese.

"Yup, you're right, Danno. Pizza is just gooey white stuff, sauce and dough. I can live with that."

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	2. Chapter 2 - Runnel

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Had no plans to do anything today ... then this popped up. I think The Wind in the Willows Kenneth Grahame, did it for me. The word is used in that book - a lovely wiki reference reminded me of that, so it was fun to build in that reference. But then Steve's choice is equally wonderful. No action - just a more family oriented, peaceful chapter.

No beta ... just for fun. But if you see an error or mis-spelled word, let me know please.

*fixed: thanks to julieb716 for pointing out the author's inability to count. LOL!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Runnel.**_ _A small stream or brook._

Steve's face twisted - a mix of consternation and something which Danny wasn't quite sure he could put a name to. "Well, that's just ... stupid," Steve said, that odd look only becoming deeper. He rustled the newspaper loudly, the pencil he'd stuck sideways in his mouth, making his words nearly unintelligible. The noise he made briefly drowned out the light patter of rain on the lanai.

"I never heard of that word," he insisted as he refolded the newspaper into a tiny section where he could focus more on the crossword puzzle. He pulled the pencil from his mouth to tap the paper almost as if it were to blame. "A six-letter word for stream ... that's just ... _stupid_ , Danno."

"Starting with an 'r', could also be 'rivulet'," Danny replied blandly from where he sat on the sofa. "But you said it had an 'n' in the middle ... six letters; not seven. So it has to be that one, so just pencil it in." Eyebrows raised in a bit of pique, Danny gently cupped Charlie's head to his side as his son looked adoringly over to his Uncle Steve.

"Besides, we don't say that ... words like _stupid_ ... do we?" Danny replied calmly enough, his smile solely for Charlie's sake. "And more accurately, we don't say something is stupid just because we might not understand it, or like the way it looks or even sounds or ... really _anything_ for that matter. Do we Charlie?"

"Nope!" Charlie readily agreed, pausing to take part in the conversation, his toy truck clutched in a fist. Or, at least he seemed to agree because he had that sweet, silly smile plastered to his face while his tone said something entirely else. His expression told more: one of absolute faith in whatever his Uncle Steve did or said being one thousand percent okay with him. And Danny pursed his lips, slightly displeased.

"If it's a stream, just say stream ... even rivulet is better and that fits ... except for the 'n' ... and the letter count," Steve objected stubbornly and completely ignoring Danny's equally obstinate expression. "But _runnel_? Never heard of it ... sounds ... you know ..."

He paused, mid-sentence, catching himself when Danny all but growled at him in warning. Any word in the same category of _stupid_ ; like _dumb_ for example, would be equally inappropriate.

"This is a teachable moment, Uncle Steve," Danny replied just as calmly as before, but his tone grinding. A bit of an edge which snuck in just within Steve's radar. Certainly not at all noticed by the little boy, the tone was something which Steve easily recognized.

"A teachable ... _what_! We're just talking about words ... in a crossword puzzle!" Steve argued back before he bit his tongue and offered Charlie a quick smile. Clearly, he disagreed with this sort of a teachable moment, but Danny was about to prove his point and all Steve could then do was roll his eyes. Inhaling deeply when Danny smiled back, but definitely still maintaining his dogged stance based on his expression, Steve sighed out long and slow as he gave in.

"Fine. Okay. It sounds ... weird though. Just say creek or stream ... but _runnel_? Is that really a word? Who would ... and how would Charlie even _know_ what we're talking about?"

Danny shrugged as he ran his fingers gently through Charlie's hair. He glanced fondly down at his son and then looked over to Steve, but his next question was entirely aimed at the child.

"So Charlie, what's the name of the book we're reading right now?" Danny asked. "The one which Grace likes so much too? Do you remember?"

"Toad!" Charlie fairly shouted back, completely delighted. "But I like Mole more ... _maybe_. Do you like Mole, Uncle Steve?"

One side of Danny's mouth lifted into a wise grin as Steve's expression changed yet again. He didn't say a word though, just watched as Steve's mouth opened and then closed without a sound. He looked beseechingly at Danny; begging for a hint.

" _Uh_? Who?" Steve finally managed to ask when he realized that Charlie was waiting on him for an answer ... and that Danny was being purposefully evasive.

"Mole," Charlie repeated patiently. He was excited and had dropped his toy truck in favor of counting off names on his fingers now. "Or Toad ... then there's ... Badger and Ratty."

"So, the name of the book is Toad?" Steve bravely asked, his face literally looking painfully pinched when Charlie quite unexpectedly giggled at him. "Not ... Toad?"

"No, that's not the name of the book ... Toad is one of the main characters. The book we're reading is The Wind in the Willows," Danny finally offered to save him as Charlie beamed up at the two of them. "It's a classic ...and to be honest, Charlie doesn't really understand all of it ... but it's still fun. He likes the animals in it."

"Toad is rich," Charlie explained. "Very rich ... he likes to try things."

Steve nodded as if he understood, clearly wondering how his crossword puzzle had become such a major - _discussion_ \- on that lazy Sunday afternoon. He was entirely lost though. He wasn't sure what he'd just learned or been made privy to; nor did he get how any of it made sense to Danny's word suggestion for his puzzle.

"Runnel?" He asked hesitantly, desperately trying to get back on track as Charlie seemed to lose some interest in favor of one of his toy trucks again. "You sure?"

"Yup," Danny nodded. "A six-letter word starting with an 'r' and with at least one 'n' ... trust me ... it's 'runnel'."

Without another comment, Steve penciled in the word, harrumphing under his breath when it fit perfectly and the next puzzle hint easily married into the last 'l', then the next to the 'e'. Once more engrossed as he forged on, Steve fidgeted in his chair until he felt the tug on his arm. Charlie had left his father and his toys, he was now intrigued with something else.

"What's up, buddy?" Steve asked.

"I want to read the book ... the Toad one," Charlie said. "Can we?"

"Oh, um?" Steve blurted in surprise. Unsure of what to say or do, it was Danny who saved him by chiming in from across the room.

" _Ah_ , Charlie! We left the book at home. Maybe next time ... okay?" Danny gently reminded the boy. "I'm sure Uncle Steve would love to read about Toad ... but the next time okay, little man?"

There was a lull during which Charlie's face completely fell and Danny seemed to be searching for a distraction before a meltdown might ensue. A rain-scented breeze blew gently in through the open lanai doors and the rain droned on in the background. However, the room was quiet and no one knew what to say or do for a moment; Charlie's face fell even further in disappointment. Struggling to find something equally interesting, Steve got to his feet and held his hand out.

"I have an idea ... help me in the study, Charlie," Steve said. "I've got a few classics here ... maybe we can find one together? And then, when you visit with Danno, it will be our special book. What do you say?"

" _Uh_ ... well ... Steve?" Danny interrupted, eyes wide and expression one almost like something akin to ... terror. "Classics? _Here_?"

"Oh ye of little faith," Steve chided him, a devilish grin slowly transforming his face. "Yes, Danno. Classics." He raised his finger and pointed to Danny and to the sofa where he was sitting. "Sit. Stay. This one is for me ... and for Charlie."

"The holiday edition of Guns and Ammo isn't considered a real classic, Steven." Eyes still a bit wide when he was blatantly ignored, Danny half scowled and half smiled as Steve left the room with Charlie in tow. He stayed where he was, listening hard and trying to eavesdrop. They were gone for a good long time, puttering about in the study from what Danny could surmise. There was a great deal of animated discussion, a few giggles and the sounds of a few books possibly falling off shelves here and there. Danny flinched at a particularly loud thud, but remained where he was when Charlie burst into laughter. Then there was some secretive whispering and what sounded like plotting, leaving Danny to do nothing but fidget. Muttering under his breath, he was about to disobey Steve's orders, but then they were back and Charlie was curling up into his lap on the sofa, a large heavy book cradled to his chest.

Danny jolted bodily as Steve literally threw himself into the space next to him on the opposite side. Sandwiched between the two, Danny had no choice but to take the book that Charlie shoved into his hands, sneezing as dust and the odor of age drifted up into his nose.

"It's a _real_ classic, Danno," Steve purred happily into his ear. "And while I'm sure that Toad is a great book, you're both going to love this one, too."

"It's The Wind in the Willows," Danny corrected him with a sniff as Charlie got comfortable, cuddled tightly up against him. "It's a perfectly good book, Steven. We could just remember to bring it the next time ... I'll even show you where the word 'runnel' is used in it."

"I'm sure it is ... and I'm sure you _would_ ; but check this one out," Steve prodded, as he flung his arm over their shoulders, much to Charlie's ongoing delight. "Trust me ... you'll love it."

Charlie had given the book to his father upside and down and backwards. It's cover was a dull reddish brown, badly worn and with no pictures to offer even a clue as to what it might be. Nonetheless, Danny was grinning after he'd flipped it over in his hands, his fingers needing to swipe off a thin layer of grayish dust. The book smelled old and its pages were yellowing. None of that mattered though when he saw the old, embossed title.

"Treasure Island," Danny said, amazed and even pleased by the find. "Robert Louis Steven. Good one ... a very, _very_ good one."

"The one and only," Steve replied happily as he scrunched down contentedly in the sofa next to Danny.

"Read it now, Danno? Please?" Charlie practically begged on his opposite side. "Uncle Steve says it's got pirates ... and treasure ... and ships in it!"

"Yeah, Danno," Steve teased with a soft chuckle. "Pirates ... and gold."

"And ships ... _yeah_ , this is a great book," Danny added, wholeheartedly approving, yet only able to nod a moment later as the dust tickled his nose from the aged book and he had to sneeze yet again.

"Not just ships, but schooners ... and Long John Silver," Steve said, with a contented sigh. He waved his free hand through the air, squirreling down even more into the deep cushions of the sofa as the soft patter of the rain shower further set the tranquil mood.

"Read on, Danno ... read on."

 _ **~ end. ~**_


	3. Chapter 3 - Meritorious

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Wasn't doing this daily ... but this word is just soooooooo good! The breakfast bunny grabbed it over coffee this morning. Also, stress writing is a thing of mine and I have to fly tomorrow. HATE flying ... so good words and stress equal new story.

Written in one shot rather quickly. Not beta'd. Errors are my own; if you see them - please advise so I can fix them. Thank you all!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Meritorious** : _deserving praise, reward, esteem, etc.; praiseworthy_

Danny stared at his reflection in the common lavatory as he checked his tie and smoothed his once perfectly starched shirt. Now it was damp, wrinkled and feeling much too restrictive. The same as the dark uniform jacket he'd flung haphazardly over his arm, the decorative pin lost somewhere in its folds. Despite the condition of his shirt and his rather grayish complexion, outwardly, he was the picture of calm. Inside though, he was on the verge of imploding; of having an emotional meltdown. Danny coughed and fidgeted uncomfortably, noting how glassy his eyes were and how pale he really looked. He startled badly when someone on the outside tried the door to the lavatory, found it was locked. There was a stern knock, then a soft query asking if he was all right. It was Chin and Danny shook his head wearily, at the watch-dog like antics, unimpressed as his pale reflection copied the motion.

"Yeah," he coughed out again. "Yeah, sure. Be out in a minute." Then, he was ripping the tie off, popping the too-tight button at his neck, and unbuttoning his shirt sleeves, rolling up the material to nearly his elbows. He cleared his throat, biting back the surge of emotion as he stared at himself again, feeling only slightly better about things.

 _Meritorious service to the people of the State of Hawaii._

Lovely words. Meant in sincerity. Silver letters inscribed on deep, natural mahogany wood. The plaque presented to the 5-0 team would be mounted in their offices by the next day. It was large, shiny - impressive.

Danny grunted to himself as he replayed the afternoon's events. The ceremony had been nice enough. Full of the expected pomp and praise; typical too in that he'd found it difficult to be one of the recipients of said praises. Especially since he didn't even remotely view himself as worthy; he knew each of his team felt the same way. He knew that each of them were also miles away in their thoughts ... about where they wanted to be. Who they were thinking about.

Who they selfishly wanted to be _with_ for all of those long, long minutes.

They'd gone through the motions. Sweating, anxious and smiling at just the right parts. Feeling honored for being praised, but in all reality, simultaneously confused by the attention being heaped upon them.

Like the plaque and like his team mates, Danny felt it all completely unnecessary. Worse yet ... incomplete.

But he'd gotten through it all. Danny had sat there and then he'd stood there ... and then he'd duly accepted the accolades and taken the requisite volume of pictures with the Governor, his team and people he barely would recall later. He'd taken on the mantle and manned up through all of it. Slowly dying on the inside.

He hadn't been entirely _there_ ... he'd been chomping at the bit and anxious to leave. And now that he _was_ at Queens Hospital with Chin pacing the linoleum outside the small common lavatory, he wished that he'd taken the time to at least change his clothing because he was sorely over-dressed and still drawing an inordinate amount of attention.

Steve would laugh if he could see him. _He'd laugh._ Say something rude about the ridiculous tie; Danny's overdone hair. He'd laugh if he'd just wake the hell up and say something. _Anything_. But the news from Queens that morning hadn't been good. Not at all good and for a moment, Danny zoned out, feeling dizzy and sick to his stomach.

"Danny?" Chin's voice called softly to him through the four-inch thick door.

"Yeah," he repeated, realizing belatedly that they monosyllable was just about all he'd muttered to his friend since leaving the posh hotel. It only varied in its level of hoarseness. Danny unlocked and opened the door, resentful, still unprepared to see people or communicate unless absolutely necessary. Completely not in the mood to face reality and take on even more responsibilities.

Nonetheless, life was staring him right in the face just two short steps from that small bathroom in the form of Chin Ho Kelly ... and Steve's physician. That was unexpected and Danny gulped hard, knowing he'd gone even more pale just based on the doctor's kindly expression. He barely felt Chin's hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He blurted stupidly right into that kind face. Danny felt the sweat beginning to bead across his forehead as if on cue. His legs were leaden and he scarcely realized that he was walking, being led to the intensive care unit. To Steve's bed where his best friend had been in a comatose state for days.

Bad news. It would be bad because that morning's update had been so ... so _not good._

Danny coughed again, his throat dry as his nerves skyrocketed. But he was missing something ... something big based on Chin's hesitant smile and the way he squeezed Danny's shoulder. It was then that Danny realized he'd gone momentarily deaf to the actual words being said to him. A few feet shy from Steve's room, Danny stopped short and grabbed the doctor's arm.

"What?" He asked. "What did you just say? Before ... this morning ... you said ... you said that h-he..."

"I know," the doctor agreed. He managed to stand there unflinching as the detective's fingers tightened in earnest on his arm. "That was then ... and well, this is now and Commander McGarrett has surprised us all. He's turned a corner ... in a good way ... a very good way and Detective Williams, he's asking for you."

"Say what?" Danny coughed out. "Th-that's impossible ... y-you said h-he ... if h-he woke ... a-at all ... brain d-damage? Th-this morning ...?" He was stammering badly, sounding for all the world as if he had brain damage himself. Not what Steve likely had incurred from nearly drowning while saving a group of school children on the North Shore. In truth, the entire team had been there. They'd each had their jobs to do that day. Kono had been wisely teamed with Steve that day; their dual penchant for water a given. Their skills unparalleled.

But Steve. He'd gone in time and again - even after Kono had tried to stop him. The kids had come first and he'd pushed too hard to eventually suffer the consequences. Near drowning. Battered against sharp, volcanic rock. He'd suffered multiple cuts and contusions, but the head injury had been severe.

Danny swayed in place disbelieving what the doctor was saying. His world had tunneled into a bright, narrow haze of white. He watched the doctor's lips moving and forced himself to focus through the buzzing in his ears.

"H-he's okay then?" Danny literally croaked out his question.

"And asking to see you," the doctor reiterated patiently. "One at a time ... he's got some hills to climb, but I daresay, he's surprised us all."

Danny moved then. It might have been more of Chin's gentle shove that got his feet actually going. But when he reached Steve's bedside, nothing looked much different and Danny's heart plummeted. He stood there, shaking, unsure of what to do or say, part of him wanting to rip the doctor from limb to limb because nothing about Steve looked much different at all.

"Danno?" Steve's eyes were closed but the voice was all Steve's and Danny jolted where he stood. A moment later, there was a tiny glimmer of dark hazel as Steve peered up at him, wincing even in the dim light.

"Hey, Danno," Steve breathed out, a tiny smile curling up one side of his mouth. "It's g-good to s-see you b-buddy."

Danny swallowed hard as his hand fell to the back of Steve's ... he laced their fingers together, mindful of the bruises and yet incredulous of the strength behind Steve's grip. He opened his mouth and then closed it because he couldn't find the words to say. Not a single one.

"S-sum'thin w-wrong? Y-you okay?" Steve asked on a soft exhale, his brow knit in confusion and maybe even a bit of concern.

"Me?" Danny asked, gulping hard as tears stung his eyes. "Wrong?" Steve was awake. He knew him ... the doctors ... they'd all been wrong. Stunned to his core, Danny coughed and then began to laugh, tears streaming down his face.

"You big ... big, _stupid_ ... if you ever ... _ever_ do this to me again ... I swear Steven, I'll _drown_ you myself!" Danny was shaking badly, yet laughing while he cried. "You scared the hell out of me ... we almost lost you. I- _we_ \- I swear if you do this again ... "

Danny ground to a halt, breathing hard, at a loss to say more. Steve was staring up at him, too, his eyes just able to focus. He was completely unsure of what was going on. But based on what he said next, Danny knew that Steve was going to be completely fine.

"Good," Steve said quietly. He smiled, lopsided and weak, obviously wanting to go back to sleep again in order to heal an ailing body. But just before his eyes closed again, Danny heard Steve say, "N...n'uthin's wrong then ... D-Danno."

"No," Danny whispered through his tears. "Not anymore."

He virtually collapsed into the guest chair then, his jacket still over his arm. With his fingers still shaking so badly, he unpinned the small medal he'd received that day for meritorious service. Steve would be getting his own; of that, there was no doubt. But Danny needed this; he needed to do this.

He stood back up, his legs feeling as wobbly as his hands as he carefully pinned the medal to the corner of Steve's hospital gown while his friend now slept so very peacefully.

Danny smoothed the thin blue material around the medal and stood tall, not feeling nearly as stupid as he might some other time as he blindly saluted Steve and then leaned forward to press a kiss to the cool forehead.

"Love you, buddy," Danny whispered softly. "Keep getting better, _huh_?"

 _ **~End. ~**_


	4. Chapter 4 - Mishap

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** breakfast bunny strikes! Not beta'd ... just twiddled. All mistakes/errors are my own.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Mishap** : _an unfortunate accident. Bad luck._

Danny sat on the edge of the laminated counter in the lavatory, head tilted skyward, eyes tightly closed though he should be blinking. He knew that - knew the drill - but his body's reaction had other ideas and frankly, he wasn't able to quite fight through the pain just yet. Parts of his face were mottled red, while others were of a normal skin-tone. Tears ran heedlessly down his cheeks in torrents and he was breathing hard, alternating between coughing and swallowing repetitively against the red hot pangs of pain darting through his eyes, and affecting his nose and throat. The latter two of which seemed to be constricting with every passing second.

"Hurry ... it up," he hissed though clenched teeth, his ears the only thing which seemed to be working as he focused on the sound of Steve's hurried footsteps.

"Blink," Steve demanded as he rushed back into the bathroom. "Blink and hold still for me ... milk ... I got milk ... this will help, but you gotta blink, buddy. How's your breathing? Can you still breathe okay? Why the hell is your shirt still on?"

Danny grunted as Steve literally yanked his shirt off, balling the contaminated garment before tossing it into the waste can. Then he was forcing Danny's t-shirt off and over his head, angrily tossing that away too, perturbed by the slim patch of reddened, irritated skin on Danny's clavicle.

"Can you breathe? Are you sure?" Steve pressed on despite Danny's second grunt of affirmation through a raspy cough. "Open, look up."

Danny gave a sketchy nod, forcing himself to squint and attempt a rapid blink through a flood of spontaneous tears to force out the police-grade pepper-spray while Steve carefully poured milk into his eyes - hastily taken from the closest break-room. Having been sprayed directly in the face though, he could barely get his eyes to cooperate or open more than the thin width of a penny.

He tried to clear his throat and nearly choked in the process, a spike of nausea now toying with his stomach. Danny's hands flailed instinctively and Steve batted them away from his face before he grabbed Danny's chin to hold him still, streams of white milk now joining tears to coat his cheeks and mat his hair. It trickled down his neck, his chest and then pooled on the counter top; the entire process necessary, but wholly uncomfortable.

"S'good," Danny insisted. He tried to dab at his face, and failed again though as Steve chuffed a distinct warning.

"Don't move ... don't move!" Steve admonished him as Danny grabbed for his wrist next. He briefly paused, waiting as Danny cleared his throat and tried to open his eyes more to test their progress. "Well? How is it? Can you see yet?"

"Nope," Danny replied candidly. He knew that would pass though and his eyesight would be fine. But his throat was on fire and then the sensitive membranes within his nose were burning. The base of the milk was helping his eyes, but doing nothing for those areas and it was becoming a bit ... worrisome.

"No?" Steve repeated. His alarm was on the rise as Danny shook his head again, earning himself another berating for moving until the wet phlegmy cough cut Steve short.

"You inhaled too much, Danno," Steve cursed softly under his breath, his own eyes wide as he studiously monitored Danny's breathing and pained expression. "How are you doing, _huh_? Kono's getting a mix of detergent and water ... that'll cut the oil better than this," he said as he carefully sluiced the milk away from Danny's reddened eyes and swollen lids with his gloved thumb. "I'm gonna kill that putz. Can you breathe still?"

"M'fine ... stop asking. N'you're not gonna kill ... n'body, Rambo," Danny grunted noisily through a flux of snot and phlegm. His voice was entirely unconvincing though, especially when his words were rasped out around a series of sharply barked coughs. "Done ... b'fore ... academy."

"Yeah, well," Steve replied tightly despite his friend's attempts at a light joke. "Me too ... but there was a plan behind getting sprayed; we were sort of ready for it ... the instructors were ready. This though? _This_ was nothing but stupidity. Negligence."

"Acc'dent," Danny argued back, hissing and trying to duck away as Steve's thumb irritated the raised, reddened flesh by the corner of his left eye. He coughed and then gagged, feeling nauseous, spitting a bullet of saliva into the closest sink.

"Shouldn't have happened," Steve muttered in disgust as Kono entered the common lavatory with a large plastic bowl filled with soapy water and a pile of clean, white hand towels. "Irresponsible."

"Here Boss," Kono said. "This will help ... it's mild. Things okay? You need anything else? I'm going to make sure Tennyson's training officer doesn't kill him outright."

"He should," Steve replied stubbornly. "This never should have happened!" Soaking and then wringing out one of the towels in the soapy water, Steve laid it across Danny's eyes and the worst of the reddened skin. He winced at the same time Danny did, completely sympathetic.

"Funny thing 'bout that," Danny smirked. He still had his face aimed skyward as his eyes and skin were soothed by the various base liquids, his tone nasal. "Things that sord-of shouldn't h'ppen ... but do? Kind of defines d'meaning of an acc'dent. Dontcha think?"

"Shut up, Danno ... think about breathing all right? And maybe you should hop off the counter and wash your face with this stuff," Steve replied calmly enough, though he was far from relaxed as he pulled Danny to his feet. "Tennyson ... stupid, _stupid_ move."

"He's a rookie for a reason," Danny groused back, grimacing as another cough rattled his chest. "B'sides ... he reminds me of s'm'body." He knuckled the spot hard and shook his head, almost blindly reaching for the soapy bowl. Ducking his head down, he literally placed his face in the water, groaning deeply as he forced his eyes to open and close while submerged. Then with Steve's help, Danny rinsed his face and his eyes for the umpteenth time, his breathing easing as half of the ache was finally calmed.

"Better," Danny murmured when he finished, his voice now muffled behind a dry, second towel. "Let's go home. _Please_." He squinted upwards, blinking madly, a lop-sided grin proving he could see well enough. Yet, he coughed breathlessly and Steve frowned at the ongoing sound, which was tight, painful.

"Not better enough," Steve growled as he stripped the gloves from his hands and then draped a clean towel over Danny's shoulders before they left the lavatory. He shuttled his friend in front of him, a guiding hand on Danny's arm. They'd barely made it to the front doors before the training officer intercepted them, upset and apologetic.

"Commander McGarrett. Detective Williams? Are you all right? Officer Kalakaua said you were better ... yes?" The man asked, his expression earnest and on the verge of panic. He looked from one to the other, his eyes settling on Steve's face when he got a better look at the raised, irritated skin around Danny's eyes and mottled cheeks. The training officer swallowed hard, his worry tantamount.

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah," Danny answered first. "M'fine ... it's fine. Kid's got ... kick-ass reflexes. He's ... smart ... just needs some ... guidance. A little ... direction." He knuckled his chest as another cough threatened to leave him breathless. He glanced towards his partner, another dim shake of his head signaling a warning for Steve to keep his thoughts to himself about kids, reflexes and wanting to literally tear Tennyson from one side of the rambling training facility to the other.

" _Reflexes_?" Steve griped softly, not understanding Danny's rather bland attitude about things. "Guidance?"

"Believe me, I've already spoken to Recruit Tennyson about this rather unfortunate ... _mishap_ ," the training sergeant explained in a rush. There was no doubt that the man was embarrassed. Angry ... and very, very embarrassed for his recruit's actions. Tennyson would be hearing about what he'd done likely for the rest of his professional life ... _if_ he managed to make it to graduation based upon his sergeant's attitude.

"It won't happen again ... he's ... "

"It was an accident," Danny interrupted the older man. He cocked his head to the side, squinting painfully upwards. The sergeant was tall and Danny in no mood to do more. He squinted harder, a silhouette catching his attention at the farthest edge of the facility. Danny knew it was Tennyson. The tall, gangly figure now unmistakable down to the hunch of the shoulders which would one day be broad as the kid matured.

The dark hair; the silhouette held a familiar quality to it and Danny snorted noisily through his nose and then sneezed heartily. He smiled. Tennyson was pacing now, his stride long. His agitation palpable even from that distance and Danny snorted again, a subsequent cough leaving him nearly reeling.

He glanced up to his equally perturbed partner and then back to Tennyson's young figure and Danny grinned despite it all.

 _ **~ End ~**_


	5. Chapter 5 - Fusillade

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** finally a GOOD word! Not beta'd - not a doctor - just having some fun. Any mistakes are my own.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Fusillade** : _a general discharge or outpouring of anything:_ _a fusillade of questions. 2. a simultaneous or continuous discharge of firearms._

Danny wasn't sure he was breathing anymore. He didn't feel the blazing heat from the sun or the volume of sweat soaking his shirt. He'd almost forgotten that he was still desperately clutching his weapon in his fisted hands as lay on his side. His comm link was still in his ear, too, but using it was virtually impossible. Besides the static crackle, his ears were ringing and he wasn't sure that there was any chatter: at him or even amongst the other members of this team. He'd tried to communicate once with his partner, but he'd given up quickly, the flux of white noise overwhelming, opting instead to hunker down. To make as small a target as humanly possible until he might be lucky enough to have the tides shift to something more in his favor.

But stuck were he was, Danny wasn't sure what was going on or if a reprieve might be on its way.

He wasn't sure of anything except the truly deafening roar of weaponry which was keeping him separated from his team, and his team completely pinned down behind what remained of a facade of an old, ruined factory. And as the violent fusillade continued for what was beginning to feel like hours, that ruined concrete wall seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as bullets chipped steadily away at it.

Out-gunned, out-manned and nearly out of ammunition, Danny tried to become one with the hard-packed dirt. He was on the farthest side of the old factory and far away from his team. Inadvertently separated from them, he was stranded. Alone. Without backup. Eyes closed and practically in a fetal position, Danny's face was dotted with a mix of sweat, blood and grayish concrete dust. Some speckles of glistening red were from wounds as small as a pin-prick to a deeper gouge which ran along his left cheekbone, disappearing into his hairline.

"Come _on_! Give me a break!" Danny yelped in frustration and pain as another salvo of bullets peppered his location. He tried to make himself even smaller, having no defensive position whatsoever - incapable of doing a damned thing about the spray of sharp concrete particles which stung his face again, bit into his scalp and then traced painfully across his left bicep nearly down to his wrist.

He hoped his team were in better straits because he had zero options, and yet, he couldn't just stay where he was either. Cursing under his breath about his miserable lot, Danny shifted his upper body when he sensed a brief lull, squinting carefully in case another fusillade of bullets came his way. He could feel the wetness trickling down his cheeks and knew he was bleeding. But as he moved, the ache in his head flared and he winced, the sunny yard too bright and shimmering in a dizzying haze.

He was in a no-win situation and yet he had to do something. Taking a risk, Danny shifted cautiously onto his knees. He couldn't hear or see his team, but he could see the treacherous shapes moving every so often from their better vantage points. They seemed to be making new plans; improving their own odds which hardly seemed necessary for the well-orchestrated trap they'd already sprung. Cursing again because he didn't have much time, Danny dabbed at his forehead, grimacing when his fingers came away bloody. A cautious test of the same along his scalp-line proved that wound was deeper yet. And it was then that Danny felt the tackiness of blood seeping into his collar. He closed his eyes, knuckling the space between them. His mouth was dry and he was both thirsty and feeling nauseous at the same time. He likely had a concussion or was at minimum rattled pretty good. Still, he had to do _something_. And maybe - _just maybe_ \- his move wouldn't be so ill-timed that he might provide a bit of distraction where his team-mates might gain an upper-hand.

Danny cleared his throat, swallowing hard against its dryness as he concentrated on his gun, counting the bullets he had left in his clip. Five. Just _five_ were left. He glanced up nervously, sensing that his brief period of quietude was about to end despite the ongoing ringing in his ears. He slowly shook his head, trying inanely to shake the buzz out of his ears and the dizziness from his brain. Squinting across the sunny yard, Danny tried to make a decision: to stay where he was or make his way across the yard to where he might gain some decent distance; a better place to hide. Even give his team a better chance.

He made his decision just as another battery of gunfire shattered the air. Danny was pushing himself up and out into the open, his goal the ruined shell of a box truck which seemed a distinct improvement over the disintegrating shell of a four-foot wall of weather-damaged concrete. He pushed himself up, never hearing Steve's shout of horror as he broke cover, the clatter of bullets chasing his heels across the uneven dirt of the yard.

Focused on his rusted-out piece of metal, Danny was oblivious to all else right up until the time he was spun clear around, the blue of the sky spiraling over his head. He grunted breathlessly, his face contorting into an expression of confusion as he fell to his knees, facing the direction from where'd he'd come from. He looked stupidly down at his hands, not understanding why his gun was slipping from his fingers, just before the second bullet swept him cleanly onto his back.

He suddenly didn't feel anything. There was no more noise. Embraced by silence, Danny blinked once, then twice before his eyes simply slowly closed completely against the soft blue of the sky.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

He didn't know anything for a very long time. At least nothing beyond intermittent snippets of noise. Static. Murmurings of sound which came and went. An occasional bright glimmer of light. There were no thoughts which came with any of that, though. Just a period of silence dark broken by occasional snippets of noise ... like rushing water. A whoosh of thick air as if in an echoey tunnel. It stayed like that for a long time until a deep bass resonated stubbornly at the very core of his ears.

Sometimes he ached or he felt an uncomfortable pressure on his chest, inside his head, or holding his fingers; oftentimes, not. More often, there was simply nothing at all.

"... _do this. I can't ... alone."_

Danny heard the words. His mind vacant. Not knowing who was speaking or the deeper meaning behind what he was hearing. Not really caring about the distress. Not wanting anything. Not wanting to work at deciphering the sounds. Worse yet, not wishing to fight as he thought the voice seemed to be begging.

 _"Please don't ... Please ... fight, Danny. Don't ... dare give up, dammit."_

All he could do was lay there, listening as the deep base rumbled on and the words blurred back into static. When that happened, Danny forgot to listen. He forgot that he was ever even slightly interested as things turned darker again.

 _"... too long."_

Danny's attention waxed and waned through undefined periods. Sometimes the drone was there ... sometimes not.

 _"Why? N'ver listen ... that day ..."_

It was back again now, white noise becoming a word or two, here and there at least. The bass tone was calmer than it had been - though there was now a hint of sad resignation - and Danny even surprised himself by understanding that much. He almost cared.

".. _. so things are settling down now ._.. _now that the trial is over."_ The voice paused, and Danny distinctly heard the rustling of paper, an agitated sigh. He frowned as the words became sentences and his understanding seemed to take hold.

"Settling down, yeah, but far from being okay, buddy."

The static faded entirely and Danny heard the sound of a chair being shoved backwards, a soft thud as its legs slid across the floor. He could almost see that in his mind's eye and that revelation was nothing short of startling. A moment later, Danny sensed a shadow fall over his face. It blocked the brightness of the overhead light. He sensed that the man who had been speaking, was now standing over him. Studying his face ... staring at him ... desperately worried for him ... about him.

 _Steve_. Danny startled himself. Why hadn't he known or cared until that moment?

"I miss you, buddy," Steve whispered softly to him. "It's been ... weeks ... so much has happened and yet, not enough." His voice was full of sadness and wracked by grief. Something which Danny didn't understand on a whole new level. He struggled this time when he felt his body's familiar desire to turn away and sleep. He argued that strong want even more when he felt Steve take up his hand, Steve's warmth solid and real even if his own fingers were lax and chilled.

"I need you to wake up," Steve continued on. "I need to know that you're still in there ... that you're going to fight and get well. If not for me then for your kids, Danno. Grace and Charlie miss you ... hell, Charlie understands hospitals, but he doesn't understand why you're here ... and dammit, I don't know what to tell him anymore. When I dragged you out of there ... _God_ , Danny. I thought you'd been killed ... but you hung on for me ... for all of _us_. So _now_ , I need you to keep fighting ... I need you to just wake up and be okay."

The side of the bed dipped gently and Danny realized that Steve was sitting next to him now. But he wasn't talking anymore and the silence which had at one time seemed welcoming was now deafening as Steve merely inhaled deeply. Sadly.

Though the effort was monumental, Danny focused on his hand because the rest of his body was leaden. He focused on the one hand which Steve was still holding between his own and finally .. _finally_ closed his fingers. His grip was weak but Danny urged himself on, tightening that hold as much as he could until he got the reaction he'd hoped for.

"D-Danny?" His name was breathed out incredulously, on a wisp of air so soft that the sob which came on its heels was almost too loud. "Danny? Yeah? Can you hear me... you can hear me?"

If he'd the strength, Danny would have smiled at the inane verbal bumbling. Instead, Danny forced his eyes to open, squinting, his view hazy at first as he searched for Steve's face. When he found him, he opened his mouth, hoping to say something. Wanting to ask what had happened - why Steve was so upset - Danny's distress spiking when he realized he didn't remember. But his poor attempt was immediately shushed ... his new feeling of fear quieted and soothed as tears filled Steve's eyes.

"Where the hell have you been, babe?" Steve whispered through his tears. He clung to Danny's hand, looking incredulously from their interlaced fingers to Danny's face. He cleared his throat, fighting his emotions, pausing long enough to press the call button to the nurse's station.

"You're going to be okay," Steve said next. "You ... you got shot ... damned fool ... I ... I know you had no choice ...". Steve lost his voice. He used one hand to scrub his face hard, swiping across his eyes and needing to draw in a shaky breath before continuing.

"But you're going to be okay now." His voice cracked on the last few words anyway and he coughed harshly, overwhelmed. He shook his head, bewildered, his expression changing to one of joy as a broad smile broke free.

"Danny ..."

Danny frowned when Steve's voice seemed to fail him again, confused by the almost manic grin. As his vision sharpened, he measured the haggard look of his best friend; the dark shadows under his eyes and the heavy creases lining his face. Steve needed a shave and his clothes were sorely rumpled. Danny thought that he should ask more about what had happened. Why he couldn't remember. But right then it didn't matter because Steve's eyes were shining with joy and his smile was knowing no bounds. He hung on to Danny's hand and half sobbed an elated sound of absolute relief.

 _"Danny ..."_

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	6. Chapter 6 - Element

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** got nuthin' but a crazy breakfast bunny. Who would EVER have thought of this using this word? I've no clue ... just going with the flow. Sadly, it's not even bro-omantic!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Element**_ : _a component or constituent of a whole or one of the parts into which a whole may be resolved by analysis. One of a class of substances that cannot be separated into simpler substances by chemical means. A natural habitat, sphere of activity, environment,etc._

"Can you come out?" Steve asked. "Will you come to me? Your parents are worried and just want you to come home." He was crouched down low, barely able to see the child who had wedged herself as far back inside the tight copse of vines, ash-colored tree limbs and thick walled branches as she possibly could. She was small and the space was incredibly tight, affording just enough room for one little person. He had no hope in fitting or squeezing through even if he laid flat on the ground and tried to crawl his way to her.

Based on the firm set of her tiny chin, she knew exactly what she was doing and just how well she'd managed to stay out of his reach.

They were having quite the stand off.

"Molly? Come on out, okay?" Steve pressed on lightly. "Come on sweetheart. It's time to go home and your parents aren't mad ... no one is mad at you."

He smiled warmly and offered every reassurance he could. She didn't budge. He sincerely meant what he said, too; at the tender age of six. Really six and one half as Molly - completely offended - had so reminded him. That offhand comment he'd made had barely set him on the right foot with her from the get-go. Regardless, of her age or temper, she was hardly in any trouble at all. That much was true. She might have accidentally spilled a gallon of milk or dropped a toy down the toilet bowl and it had over-flowed. Maybe she refused to take a nap, opting instead to throw a tantrum about going to a playground or having a play-date. Steve didn't know because finding a lost child safe and sound was tantamount over the reason for why she'd run away right then.

Frankly, Steve didn't know what Molly had actually done - but the crime was evidently a huge one in her mind. Still, she refused to move an inch no matter what he said. Stubborn. Petulant. Two things evidently inherent in this tiny person which his partner would have been much more prepared to deal with than he.

What he did know for a fact was that her frantic parents simply wanted her found and then safely brought home. They'd explained that she was smart, unpredictable. Terribly ... _precocious_ for her age. _Gifted_ in fact. That they'd had their hands full keeping her occupied ... but, they hadn't been able to share why their daughter had opted to run away. They evidently didn't know either.

"You found a really good hiding place here," Steve said conversationally. He pushed aside some of the heavy, green leaves to make his point. The location was indeed a tricky one. He was impressed with her agility and her will to climb so high; he'd have to literally carry her down once he coaxed her out. The final hiding place was actually private and comfortable, too; he could see why Molly had chosen it. Practically hidden from sight but given a birds-eye view, she could peek out safely enough. He'd only managed to find her by sheer luck when the glint of something metallic from so high up had caught his eye.

He'd been darn lucky and had immediately radio'd that he'd found the little girl secreted high up and hidden in the heavy, tangled copse of vines and trees. She'd been missing half the day, was a decent five mile trek from her home, and Steve knew that the other first responders were milling about far below them. An ambulance would be there, too, just in case. Plus Molly's parents had likely arrived. But for now, it was just him and her. Everyone was waiting on Steve to carry her safely down.

The core issue was though, that she had zero interest in him, starting with his name.

"It's perfect ... sort of like a pretty little castle for a beautiful princess. High up so you can see everything. Lots of pretty green leaves ... it's really cool with all this shade ... perfect for a princess."

"I don't want to be a dumb princess," Molly replied quickly. She rolled her eyes dramatically skywards. "Princesses are _stupid_." Again, based on her icy tone, he'd managed to annoy her sense of pride and his smile wavered.

"Stupid, huh?" Steve sighed softly and shifted his feet, the burn in his lower back starting to be more of a problem. He could just make out the dark chestnut shine of her hair, the glimmer of a green eye, the side of her cheek. She was holding something shiny in her hand, but he couldn't quite see what it was. Of utmost importance though: Molly was fine ... not a scratch on her. She also wasn't crying or scared and Steve chuffed a somewhat amused sound since little Molly was likely going to be very far from feeling sorry, too. She'd also said something completely contrary to what he thought little girls liked or wanted to be and for a moment, he really didn't know what to say next.

He got the distinct impression that she didn't want or need his help at all. That thought was rather unsettling.

Besides, what little girl didn't want to be a princess? Baffled, he recovered and smiled anew, searching his mind for other ideas, though his personal arsenal now seemed exhausted. For the thousandth time, Steve wished Danny was there with him because Steve was totally out of his element. Beyond his limited skills set when it came to little girls, especially now, as he kept struggling to find some common ground.

Danny's daughter, Grace, had liked princesses, the color pink and most definitely dolphins. Even Chin Ho's niece, Sarah, was entranced by frilly things and the idea of pretty princesses. Steve knew that much, yet he paused now with Molly, not knowing where to go with this particular little girl.

"No princesses. Okay. So ... what about scouts?" Steve tentatively asked. He sensed that Molly might be too young, but maybe not. Up until that moment, his entire conversation with someone that almost ranked as a " _baby_ " had been nothing but one fraught with frustration.

"Have you heard of the Aloha Girls? Camping ... fishing ... things like that?"

Molly frowned immediately, the one side of her cheek tilting incredibly to the side to show off a deep dimple. She was adorable, precocious as her father had described, but incredibly untrusting. He'd struck out again. Royally.

"Come on, Molly ... how about we just go home now? Please? I promise you're not in trouble ... your parents are just really worried about you, sweetheart." Steve held his hand out, palm up and has unthreatening as possible, disappointed though when the little girl gave a fast negative shake of her head.

She wasn't coming out for him or for anyone else.

"Shave ice?" He asked belatedly, moving on to bribery when basic reason didn't work. Steve groaned under his breath when Molly merely stared at him. Silent and immovable. "Okay ... no shave ice."

He made a face of his own now. He sat down on the ground with a thump, crossing his legs and determined to dig in. As sweat trickled down his back, Steve thought about how nice it would be to have a shave ice for himself. For a moment, he reconsidered his decision to handle the situation alone. He could easily radio for help from the skilled team of other responders waiting down below or even call his partner to beg some advice. But he'd been with the child for a good block of time and she'd obviously hear everything he might say. She was smart and the idea to call Danny stupid. Plus, the terrain was tricky and it would take time for anyone to gear up to help, so Steve opted to continue on. At least for a few more minutes.

"So. _So_ , Molly ... tell me ... why did you run away?"

With that, he sensed a shift in the air. Though it was an obvious question, Steve asking it of Molly had been unexpected and this time, it was he who cocked his head and waited. Peering through the thick undergrowth, he could see more of her face when she copied the way he was sitting. She was indeed adorable, with big green eyes and long hair ... loose and softly curling. Her eyes though were uncannily sharp and Steve sensed that she was more mature than her young years. Clever indeed ... perhaps even ... very gifted.

They stared at each other, through the greenery, weighing and measuring each others intentions.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Steve pressed carefully, sensing a way in through her defenses. "Why did you leave home ... I don't think you even packed up anything. No food or a jacket ... nothing?"

But Molly was shaking her head, disagreeing with him. Of course she'd been prepared. From behind her back, she tugged out a small canvas bag and with the utmost care, she started to empty its contents one by one on the dirt in front of her. Silently. And when she was done, Steve counted six items.

A carefully folded dark blue jacket. A colorful change purse that evidently held some money. One small children's book with a cartoonish version of Albert Einstein on its cover. _Albert Einstein?_ Steve hid a confused scowl. A package of chocolate chip cookies. Terrifyingly ... a passport. And yet very oddly, a wrist-watch, its pricey gold band snapped into three parts. It was an expensive piece and completely baffling as to why Molly had it in her bag, until she explained the reason, which also turned into the why behind her escapade.

"I broke Daddy's watch," Molly explained, her chin quivered ever so briefly before that emotion got tucked away. She tapped the broken band with her finger. "I wanted to see how it worked ... I took a butter knife to open the back, and ... it just broke."

"Well, ..." Steve replied. "I bet you weren't supposed to touch it, but I'm sure you didn't mean for it to break."

"No, and I would have put it back together," Molly added. "I just wanted to see inside. I _know_ I could put it back again ... except it broke. It's his favorite one."

Her lip quivered this time and Steve waited patiently, but that shiny glint caught his eye again. Tucked in one fist, he was sure that it was the object which had first drawn him to her hiding place.

" _Umm_ , Molly? What do you have in your other hand?" Steve asked. "The shiny thing?" At first afraid she still had the knife - be it a simply household utensil or not - Steve grinned when she put down a Match-Box pickup truck next to her perfectly arranged line of possessions. Other than being red and white, it was almost exactly like his real version - his big Silverado - and he chuckled appreciatively.

What Molly had was completely unexpected once again. But they were at least talking now and Steve forged on.

"That's a _nice_ truck and it looks my real one. Can I see your dad's watch though?" Steve asked, acutely ignoring her expression when he'd mentioned his truck. "Maybe it's not as broken as you think ... maybe we can fix it?"

There was an excruciatingly long period of silence where Molly seemed to be considering his intentions - if he might be making fun of her - and then she took a deep breath.

"You think? Molly asked, interested in what Steve had to say about the watch, but a bit leery. Almost as if she'd panicked and not really looked herself before fleeing her small crime scene. Her expression was endearing now as Steve made the offer.

"Can we fix it? I didn't mean for it to break." She edged forward on her knees, pushing the watch in his direction. Picking it up, Steve was relieved when he saw that just the watch band was broken and though it was badly scratched, the timepiece itself was perfectly fine.

"Yeah, I think it's okay," Steve offered as he showed the little girl what was really broken. "The watch is fine, sweetie. It just needs a new wrist band, maybe a good polishing. We can fix this band or buy a new one easy enough ... I can help you if you want."

"I have money," Molly whispered. "Is it enough?"

She pointed to her change purse before shoving it along the ground so Steve could pick it up. With a great show of being very serious, Steve dumped its contents into the palm of his hand. He had to fight the smile because what he counted up - about two dollars and ten cents in change - would hardly suffice for a new battery. He knew what he wanted to say to her - give her an almost knee-jerk reply. But he paused entirely before deciding what to really say next. He could agree that it was enough money, but he knew that Molly already understood the truth of it. Patronizing _this_ child would be a lose-lose scenario, so Steve shook his head.

"No, not really. But I can help," Steve whispered back in all honesty. "And, I will." He smiled at her warmly, utterly relieved when Molly smiled back. Finally ... _finally_ warming up to him.

"You know ... there are lots of people looking for you," Steve shushed her quickly when she was ready to tune him out. He didn't want to risk losing the slim relationship he'd finally managed to make, so he held up his hand.

"No, let me explain, okay? Why don't you pack up all your stuff again and we let everyone know you're okay ... including your parents ... and then, we get the wrist band fixed?" Steve said. He was talking fast, watching as Molly's face changed from a glimmer of fear to consideration and then finally, to an expression closer to trust.

"I'm serious ... and you _can_ trust me, Molly and I'll take you myself," Steve added when Molly seemed to waffle again. "I'm a cop ... and ...I'd never lie to you about something this important."

Still seated, he leaned forward and scooped up her toy pickup truck, the one thing she seemed loathe to hide away inside her small bag. "Why do you have this?" He asked politely.

"Because when I grow up ...," Molly said, her look daring him to laugh at her. "When I grow up ... I want to be a scientist ... _and_ I want a truck just like it."

"A scientist? With a cool truck? Why not. Good for you ... I like it," Steve said enthusiastically. He earned himself another smile from Molly, that dimple working over time. He melted under her steady gaze as things clicked into place one by one: Molly was an incredibly smart child who was often patronized. Promises made and not kept far too often. She had an almost overwhelming intelligence and yet, she was still a little girl. Her aspirations were just a bit ... _bigger_ than most.

"In fact, why wait until you grow up? How about a ride in a real police _truck_? Like I said, mine is a lot like this one. And, I can show you how the buttons work ... we can light it up and _then_ ...even put the sirens on ... make lots of noise ... "

"A police ... _truck_?" Molly suddenly piped in. "It does ... _things_?" She was interested but not entirely convinced until he pointed far below them.

"It's down there," Steve said. "Yeah, it's got everything, along with very official sirens and lights ... the whole nine yards," he confirmed as she craned her neck in order to see over his shoulder. "So, what do you say? Shall we go shopping, ' _not_ _Princess'_ Molly?" He took the risk at making her laugh ... at kidding a bit with her when he realized that Molly was also hiding a subtle wit despite her young years.

"Can we go fast?" Molly replied coyly once she got the joke he'd just tried to make. She was quick as she smiled, her dimple deepening at the same time her eyes lit up. "Steve? If it's a _police_ truck ... can we go _fast_?"

Steve laughed as he held his hand out to her and she willingly came to him this time. Molly might not want to wear pink or be a princess or live in a castle, but she was certainly a girl after his own heart.

"Well," Steve started to say good-naturedly until he thought about what Danny would say ...especially about what was in the truck's glove compartment. With that, Steve then remembered the age of the tiny person's hand he was holding. Molly was looking up at him, her green eyes shining with anticipation but still so worried about her hopes being rudely dashed. Steve chuckled as he gently squeezed her hand. Then, he shook his head helplessly as he made a small space between his thumb and index finger.

"Maybe ... _maybe_ we can go ... just a little bit fast. But only _after_ we get that shave ice first, because even if you don't, _I_ really need one!"

And with that, Molly giggled outright.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	7. Chapter 7 - Unscathed

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** took a while to find something of interest to the muse. Usual warnings apply: all about the idea of bromance, not beta'd; not a doctor; won't be much of a plot, etc. Any errors are my own.

 _ **Word of the day: Unscathed:** not scathed; unharmed; uninjured:_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve sat in the intensive care unit, slouched forward, elbows on his jittery knees with his forehead resting heavily on the white-knuckled ledge made by his intertwined fingers. He was nauseous, really sick to his stomach and in a complete state of denial about what the second medical consult had concluded together with the first physician. He'd been desperate to prove the dour man wrong. Unable to help himself as his prognosis proved valid, his brain looped endlessly over and over through what could easily now have become a tragic event. Steve peeked out over his fingers and just stared at Danny's face, vainly willing it to never have happened: the bad intel, the skillfully set trap, how they'd all been separated purposefully to be picked off one by one.

Danny had had no choice. Pinned down and out of ammo, he'd been farthest away and in the worst situation. No one could reach him; not a single one of them.

"God dammit," Steve moaned softly as he watched Danny's chest rise and fall. That was the only movement his friend had made in seven days time and that, for all intents and purposes, had been of a mechanical nature up until the previous evening. Since then, it was an hourly miracle that it continued to happen at all and for that, Steve remained both terrified ... and thankful.

"You were right," he whispered softly as he shook his fingers apart only to idly pick at the bedsheets nearest the bed's protective rail. "We didn't vet it all the way ... we should have done more ... should have made sure."

And Danny had been right in his usual, most annoying negative of ways. The jibes in the Camaro, the back-talk and all of that mock-bitter sarcasm tossed Steve's way had been so easy to ignore. Easy to hear, downplay and then discard as Steve also always did ... in his usual, most predictable of ways, down to his own sardonic head toss as they'd driven together to the rally point. This time, Steve shouldn't just have _heard_ Danny bitch and moan, he should have truly _listened_.

But all of that was certainly too late now.

"You were right," Steve said anyway. His fingers strayed across the sheet to tap Danny's knuckles. "You were right. We should have done at least one more check ... one more, stupid check that would have taken, what? Like five minutes?"

Steve closed his eyes, he could feel the tears finally threatening far too close to the surface. The second consult had been devastating to hear though and he'd had so much hope. It was done now, too. Over. The experts had spoken and the dismal percentage - a not so arbitrary number based on similar cases - was now left entirely in Danny's unresponsive hands.

"Kono's okay," Steve whispered as a tear cut loose to roll down his cheek. "She'll be on crutches for a few weeks ... then back on light duty. And Chin ... his arm's practically healed up already. Just a cease ... couple of stitches. Me ... I ... _uh_ , ..."

He paused, annoyed at himself. He was fine ... and unlike his team ... unscathed. That terrible fact made his mental replay of those last minutes so much more painful. He couldn't stop though ... he couldn't prevent his mind from looping and re-looping what had happened, over and over.

 _"One, boss!" Kono had said in his ear at the same time two solid, concussive shots had rung out. There'd been a stressful glee in her tone, the danger fueling her adrenalin. "Two. Have a third target in sight... ready ... ready ..."_

 _She had been in the zone, well aware of what Danny had been readying to do and ready to take full advantage of the coming distraction despite the risk. She had been fully aware and worried for him, and yet had continued to fire with a particular purposefulness. Her calmly voiced count won by her skilled marksmanship would have been almost comical if not for their circumstances._

 _"Three ... three ... come on ... three," Kono had muttered in anticipation as she'd forced herself to wait. "Three ... just move ... a bit ... more ... come on ..."_

 _Also low on ammunition, she had waited until her shot would be clean and guaranteed to dispatch her next target. There was a moment of silence at one point. A millisecond the length of a mere whisper and then a single crack. Steve heard the soft sound of approval and acted then, simultaneously sensing a change in Kono's tone. A grunt of pain? A startled ... query?_

 _But Steve had kept his focus, his eyes on his partner. Buoyed when he heard Kono's voice in his ear again, he stayed his course. Kono had sounded breathless, yes, but steadfast and firm._

 _"Got him, boss," Kono had whispered unexpectedly, her next words the only proof of where her thoughts really were even if she had been hit. "Go .. go ... get Danny ... get him! I've got this side covered!"_

 _"Chin! Cover me ... on three!" Steve demanded because he had to take advantage of the lessening frequency of the salvos._ _He had bounced on his toes, staying low and multi-tasking; his eyes had flickered from where their attackers had laid hidden to ... the prone body of his partner. It had happened so fast, that Steve hadn't seen Danny get hit. He hadn't seen him go down._

 _He hadn't heard a single word from Danny at all. And now, Danny wasn't moving ... not at all and Steve was sure that he could see a blood-stain spreading across Danny's lower back._

 _"On it," Chin replied, equally as calmly as his cousin who was up to a count of five tangos. "Ready ... one, two ... three, Steve. Go ... go, go!"_

 _Steve had stayed low, weaving and dodging, his eyes now solely locked on his downed partner, measuring the subsequent distance towards better cover. He'd heard his team's chatter in his ear, then had finally registered the distant sounds of multiple sirens. Help had been near and that truth had spurred him on. But his heart had been in his throat even though he'd understood what Danny had been trying to do to save them - to buy them time for the very help which had been just minutes away. So close ... and yet, had already been far too late._

Even now Steve understood the why of it and he even accepted that inside of his military brain. Nonetheless, the chance had been far too risky and now Danny had been hit.

 _"Damn fool," Steve remembered saying as he'd skidded the last few feet to Danny's side, scotching across the dirt on his knees. He'd taken a moment to lob a steady round of fire in support of Chin's primary targets and then he'd shoved his weapon into his holster to lift Danny into his arms._

He'd known then. As soon as he'd touched him, Steve had _known_. He'd just prayed that he'd be wrong again. He prayed for days that the doctors would be wrong, too. And just like Danny's old sarcastic remarks, that Danny would know better than them all.

"Be right now," Steve whispered brokenly. "Prove us wrong ... let these damned doctors be wrong, Danno. Please ... _please_ , buddy."

He'd been desperate for good news and had called for that second consult. A right he had as his best friend's medical proxy and power of attorney. But that consult hadn't gone as he'd hoped and now Steve was beyond desperate; even on the verge of an emotional breakdown because of a grievous decision he'd a hand in making.

 _Danny wouldn't want to live this way. Supported by mechanical means._

Steve had made the call in consort with Danny's family. But that didn't matter. It was as if Steve had pulled the plug by himself. More tears littered his cheeks and incapable of sitting quietly for longer than just a few minutes, Steve surged to his feet, his eyes automatically searching out Danny's face. It was difficult to see amongst the sea of tape, white bandages and discoloration of damaged skin. Still, it was easier to see now that the ventilator had been removed. The soft, even-cadence of the machine had been as disturbing as the bloody scabs, the butterfly bandages, and the fresh bruises. But in a sick way, Steve missed it now because that sound had signified a hope that was dwindling fast away.

Things were in Danny's hands now.

Steve leaned over the bed, his elbows resting on the rail. He gently twitched a few stray strands of blonde hair to the side, away from the wound. There were three staples in Danny's hairline, the area shaved away for the surgeon to close the deepest part of a gaping crease. It was a neatly done job, but despite the number of days, still ugly and raw looking. But the worst damage - the damage caused by the two bullets - that which wasn't readily seen - was most devastating.

The first bullet had lodged in Danny's back, near his spine. The second, had been higher up, shattering his shoulder blade and damaging his lungs. Both had caused an inordinate amount of internal damage.

Too much damage. Far too much and Danny held dismal odds at survival even though, over the last fifteen hours, he continued to breathe on his own.

"Please don't do this," Steve whispered softly. "Please ... fight, Danny. Hang in there ... hang on, buddy."

 _"Y-you?"_

The sound was scarcely a word. Hardly a sound and more of a dim echo. Steve froze in place, motionless, his fingers still wrapped around a few strands of hair. His eyes were wide, stunned as he stared at Danny's face and completely unsure if he'd heard anything at all. Danny's lips were parted, his eyes closed, but something had changed. There was a softness now, something less waxen - more alive. Steve swallowed hard, searching for a sign as he held his breath.

"Danny?" He whispered. He saw it then, the subtle twitch and then a brief crinkling near Danny's brow. Afraid to even swipe at the wetness streaking down his cheeks in case he might miss something more, Steve waited. He watched, his fingers beginning to tremble as Danny seemed to take in a shallow, halting breath of air. His lips quivered and another sound was softly pushed out and Steve felt the resulting vibration clear down to his feet.

"Y-you?"

"W-what? M-me" Steve stuttered inanely, virtually mimicking the soft bit of noise. "Danny?"

Danny's face suddenly crinkled, his eyes squeezing tightly shut before they opened by the tiniest amount. It was such a graphic change that Steve's free hand was already blindly pressing the call button even before the glazed, pale blue searched out his face, settling on his own eyes with a pained weariness. Danny's lips moved again, the left side rising as if to smile or say something else. Instead, he seemed to mouth Steve's name and then his eyes were closing again, his face falling slack.

"D-Danny?" Steve's voice cracked in fear, tears were falling freely now as he ran his fingers gently over his friend's temple. "Danny? Danno?"

Steve's panic stayed high until he realized that Danny's skin was of a normal warmth and that he seemed to have a more natural color to his face, too. Automatically checking for the soft rise and fall of Danny's chest, Steve re-assured himself that Danny was still breathing.

"Okay," Steve whispered repeatedly. "Okay ... okay." He choked back a laugh and then only moved aside then when the doctor entered the room, his smile wide as he gestured towards the bed. "He woke up ... he did ... he woke up!"

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O - Epilogue:**

Steve stood by the barbecue grill, spatula held high. He should have been monitoring the food he was grilling, especially since he'd piled so much on, that there was no surface area left to be had. Instead, he was staring at his friend, a goofy smile on his face. Danny was sitting in a wheel chair on Steve's lanai. Far from being one hundred percent, it was good enough that he was simply there. Already looking tired, but smiling and happy and completely surrounded by his family and his friends.

Steve grinned as their eyes met, Danny dramatically rolling his skywards. "You," Danny said. "You ... are just damned incredible."

He jabbed his finger almost belligerently at Steve's face from where he was sitting. There was denying that Dany was fatigued, his energy reserves distressingly low. He was smiling though, his eyes crinkling in good humor as he pointed to the grill.

"Yeah, Danno?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised high. "What about me? I'm ... incredible?"

"Not _that_ kind of incredible," Danny mock-argued back. "What did I tell you about trying to cook everything at once? _Huh_? Just ... who are you feeding, the whole damned Navy? Why don't you ever listen to me?" He rolled his eyes again, now in exasperation, as the food sizzled and popped. A spike of red flame flared high just as a puff of dark smoke wafted up from the grill.

"Ah, it's gonna burn up!" Danny bemoaned the possible fate of a particular steak he'd had his eye on. "Why don't you ever listen to me, _huh_?"

"Oh I do listen," Steve answered, the smile falling from his face. He shook his head, suddenly serious and unable to do more than helplessly shrug as his demeanor completely changed. He stared hard at Danny, his eyes flicking over the wheelchair, the new soft down of hair only now just starting to hide the scar along Danny's scalp.

He inhaled deeply, his hands falling limply to his side and incapable of explaining himself as Danny sobered in kind, no doubt confused as he hung on to Steve's every word.

"I listen ... I listen all the time to you, Danno. All the time ... to every damned thing you have to say. I _listen_."

"Yeah," Danny muttered under his breath a moment later. He shook his head, too, his tone just as serious as Steve's, though a genuine smile was already creeping back across his face. "I know you do."

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	8. Chapter 8 - Akimbo Part 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** I am NOT sure where this came from today. It wasn't supposed to be. But it had to come out. Also, I admit to having failed at the one shot promise with this " _chapter_ " ... look for a second " _chapter_ ", please! And yeah - so, umm - the creditability factor doesn't actually exist in terms of plot or "medical' condition for this one, so suspend that, too. That's why this is fiction for fun, right? :-)

However, I do claim extra credit for excessive use of the word of the day; the definition of which seems a bit mis-used or suspect since the consistent definition across many resources solely relates to "hands on hips/elbows turned outwards". However, I've chosen the latter definition below "of other limbs flung out widely."

NOT a death fic.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the day: Akimbo**_ _ **:**_ with hands on the hips and elbows turned outward. Of other limbs flung out widely or haphazardly.

 _Danny was dead._

His gamble hadn't paid off. He had to now admit that it had all been a bad plan from the start.

Steve watched in horror as they dragged Danny's body off to the side by one arm. They'd shot him in the head. Right there. Right in front of Steve to blatantly prove their point and they dragged his body away now. Carelessly, as if he were nothing. They'd done the same with the three members of their own gang taken down in Steve and Danny's desperate attempt; been careless at least. Indifferent. Brutally cold. Blood smeared the concrete where each of the men had died and then been dragged without thought to the opposite side of the basement.

Shocked to his core, Steve watched as the cartel member gave one final heave of Danny's arm to lift his body up just a few more inches to get him out of the way, his limbs falling akimbo over another man's dead legs.

Steve watched the man do it as if Danny were nothing because that had been the curt order. _"Get them out of the way. I need the room."_

Steve barely registered that their leader was giving new instructions. He didn't see the dangerous gleam in the man's eyes. He didn't feel the rough hands on his arms or his wrists, nor the cuffs as they were clicked in place. He didn't acknowledge the heavy pull of his own body, or the pain it caused him as he was physically hauled just a few inches off the concrete floor.

Eyes wide, dark and liquid, Steve could only stare mutely at what he could see of his partner: prone on his stomach, arms and legs akimbo, he stared at the dark blue clad legs, the soles of Danny's shoes and the faint glint of one corner of his badge.

He never felt the first blow to his abdomen because it didn't matter.

He didn't matter.

Danny was dead. _Danny was dead._

 **H5O* H5O***

He sensed movement near his head and then a change in the atmosphere as he was lifted and then dragged along the ground. He didn't belong to himself. He couldn't open his eyes. He was deaf. Mute. Nothing worked. Even if he wanted to, Danny couldn't do a damned thing because his body was an unresponsive, leaden weight and some part of him was merely along for the ride.

Another part was simply gone; his brain incapable of thought. As if he were entirely someone else just watching a scene from far away, Danny sensed that he was being dragged along the ground.

The sensation continued until …..

… he was dropped.

Not a far distance. Not a long fall at all, but the sensation changed in that instant to one of blindingly white pain. The fall jarred his badly wounded body, stole his last breath of air, and his slim grasp on something akin to consciousness fled from him.

 **H5O* H5O***

Steve spat out a wad of bloody phlegm, his head wobbling on his neck as he forced himself to look into Juan Espinosa's face. He'd been dropped unceremoniously to the ground minutes before and half-carried upstairs to another room. The gang's leader was part of a Mexican cartel; a lower level mafioso trying to impress. He'd done well so far in abducting two of the Governor's finest and then, quite inconceivably, killing one.

Steve forced himself to look at Espinosa. But his thoughts were elsewhere. He'd caught one final glimpse of Danny's body, discarded along with the others in a pile of red, gore and lifelessness.

 _Danny was dead._

Hardly able to come back to himself even after he'd been lugged up a flight of old, rickety stairs, Steve looked away from Espinosa to glance dispassionately around. The room he was in now was relatively barren, but full of light and fresher air. It cleared his head and provided more for him to work with.

It might have been part of the main floor to an old office complex. Whatever it had been - whatever advantage it might provide - made no difference to him now though.

 _Danny was dead._

Looking back into Espinosa's eager face, Steve now sat cuffed to a squarish wooden chair. His wrists. His ankles. Each limb bound to an arm or leg of the chair technically making him immobile. _Technically_ , rendered not a threat. An assumption that was ignorant at best. This changes were most decidedly in his favor. His captors - Danny's _killers_ \- were already growing over-confident and with that, sloppy. Yet, none of that mattered.

Of most recent import, Steve had now been accused of not paying attention. For not _listening_ to the very important questions being asked directly of him … the leader of Five-0.

"You're not paying attention, Commander," Espinosa sneered as he rudely tapped Steve's cheeks. "What else do I need to do in order to convince you that I mean business?"

Frankly, and Steve smiled, his teeth coated in blood, Espinosa was entirely correct in one respect because he hadn't been listening at all.

His thoughts were downstairs with the rest of his sanity. Anything that Espinosa had needed to do for Steve to tow the line - to be convinced - that one thing which mattered was already out of the equation.

 _Danny was dead._

So now, Steve shrugged. It didn't matter. He didn't matter. He didn't even react as the tire iron was brandished in front of his face.

 **H5O* H5O***

Danny moaned plaintively in his throat. He didn't dare open his eyes or move more than the one finger he'd managed to twitch. His head was throbbing in pain. His entire head from its top, down into the base of his skull and then moving into his shoulders. The whole of his upper body was ablaze in agony.

There was also a weird feeling of wet, coldness laced across his face and down his neck, too. But he didn't dare move. He knew that if he tried to move even the slightest, that pain would blind him exponentially. So he lay where he was, on his stomach, his arms stretched uselessly over his head where they'd fallen, and his cheek resting on the calf muscle of the dead cartel member he'd been dropped upon. Just an unfortunate part of a loose pile of bloody refuse discarded by Espinosa and his ' _wannabe_ ' clan of followers as he followed through on more important business dealings with the living.

 _The living._ What did that mean?

Danny heaved in a juddering breath of air. He felt wrong inside and out. A very bad kind of wrong ... a deathly kind of ... _wrong_. He opened his mouth, afraid, and wanting to call out for help. His lips moved and yet nothing happened. He couldn't speak. Couldn't shout out for help no matter how hard he tried.

He needed help. Why wasn't anyone helping him? Why didn't Steve have his back?

That singular thought stopped him cold. Eyes closed, Danny's face pinched painfully as he fought to think.

 _Steve_.

The name came unbidden and more than that single finger twitched a moment later.

 _Steve? Where was ... Steve?_

Danny's eyes snapped open wide and he groaned again.

 **H5O* H5O***

If Espinosa was growing impatient, then Steve was ten times more so. He wanted to take his partner home … he wanted to get the hell out there. Take Danny's body out of that hell hole he'd been left in with a phalanx of dead gang members far beneath that of his partner's value.

As he flexed his hands and rattled the loosening arms of the chair he'd been tied to, Steve _would_ leave. It was merely a matter of when now. But only after killing Espinosa. Ripping him from limb to limb, along with every single remaining member of his illicit gang.

"He's not going to talk, boss."

Though one eye was swelled shut, Steve rolled it skywards, a chuffed sound and sarcastic shake of his head concluding the same. Espinosa was an amateur. He'd survived worse; much worse. There was no way he'd ever talk and so, Steve grinned rudely into the faces in front of him. Then, he spat another messy wad of thick blood to splatter across the closest booted foot. The anticipated punch which rocked his head on his neck numbed his jaw and still Steve grinned.

He grinned right through the rib-cracking punches, too. Unfazed and completely un-affected, Steve's blithe resolve had an interesting impact on Espinosa's men. In short, they didn't know what to think of this man sitting in front of them.

"Es un brujo," one man murmured nervously as Steve's grin widened. Steve might not know Spanish as fluently as his partner, but he knew when he was being called a witch. Especially when Espinosa's man blessed himself with the sign of the cross.

"Come _on_ , boss!" The first man shouted now. "He's not going to talk! Let's cut our losses ... get the hell out of here!" The man's nerves were raw and he was on edge; they'd taken too long and Espinosa's team of merry cohorts was losing the faith; unraveling.

"Ya think?" Steve rasped out. "Cutting your losses ... sounds like the smartest thing you could do." He sneered as best as possible, unconcerned that half his face hurt and the other was numb. His words had the effect he wanted though as Espinosa literally exploded in rage. Steve's head was jerked back, his hair lost in a meaty hand. Even one-eyed, he managed to sneer dangerously back into the cartel leader's face.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," Espinosa quoted angrily.

"Have at it," Steve growled back in challenge. "Do it. If you can."

And he meant it, too, even if a feeling of guilt rudely twisted his chest because he'd promised Danny that he'd always be there to take care of his children if the unacceptable should happen. Of Grace … now Charlie. Steve felt guilty for breaking that vow, but right at that moment, he was devastated by another type of guilt.

 _Danny was dead_ and it was his fault. His responsibility.

Espinosa was inches from his face, spittle flying as he shouted at Steve in Spanish. His men - three in all - now ranged behind the irate gang leader. One was overtly fearful; the other two, uncertain. Steve seriously didn't care about any of them.

Twisting his wrists, Steve blinked slowly, fighting his body's desire to be less than cooperative. Adrenalin was still high though and he fought gamely on, slightly distracted as a distant movement caught his attention. He blinked again, covertly adjusting his line of sight to understand what he was seeing. The task was easy enough to mange he supposed because he only had one better eye at that point. He took advantage, cocking his head to the side as if looking at Espinosa, considering his remaining men and the threat lobbed his way.

It was his breathing which he couldn't control though as he saw the darkened silhouette in the doorway and his subsequent gasp caught in his throat. A sickly sound, the sharpness made him cough and he choked up another bloody wad which leaked sloppily from his lips.

Steve didn't notice Espinosa take a step backwards. He didn't see the next man rubbing his knuckles in anticipation. He didn't register the gun - the very same which had been aimed at his partner's head - now resting against his own temple.

Hands clenched and automatically straining against his bonds, Steve's head wobbled on his neck as he watched _Danny_ stagger forwards. The chair creaked and the wood cracked under his arms as Steve suddenly tried to get free. Espinosa laughed, believing that Steve was finally reacting in fear for his own life as the gun was cocked, a bullet falling audibly into its chamber. But Steve only had his eyes on Danny and from what he could see, half of Danny's face was coated in blood. His hair on the left side of his head was a matted mess of blackish-red gore.

 _Not dead._ Danny looked half dead though and Steve marveled at the incredible image as it gelled firmly in front of him.

Tilted to the side as he tried to walk, Danny continued to stagger towards their small grouping. His right leg didn't seem to want to work, but he was managing. He was also holding a weapon between his tightly fisted hands.

Hands which were covered in blood and shaking; bobbing in an ungainly, dangerous way.

Stunned to his core, Steve saw the determination in his friend's face. He saw the gritted teeth and clenched jaw and so he acted a millisecond before Danny fired his gun. With all the rage and fear he had at his disposal, Steve lashed out, splintering one arm of the chair. And as a bullet sliced much too closely to his own head, Steve registered that Danny was firing blindly.

Uncontrollably.

Steve grunted in approval as one man went down despite Danny's lack of precision. Based upon the way he looked, Danny could scarcely be blamed for that.

Taking advantage of their surprise, Steve turned into the gun which had been placed to his head; twisting a wrist, he gained that weapon with a sharp bone-breaking crack, while simultaneously splintering the second arm of the chair. He fired, one-handed, hitting Espinosa directly in the chest just as one of Danny's wild shots blasted through the man's back.

It was over within seconds. Four new bodies lay strewn, limbs grotesquely akimbo, as Steve stared dumbly at Danny from across the room. But then Danny was falling to his knees, his arms flopping loosely by sides. The gun slipped from Danny's fingers, clattering loudly to the floor where it lay forgotten.

"Danny!" Steve kicked out of the ruined chair, stumbling over a body, then falling to a knee. Head cocked to the right so that he might see through his better eye, Steve wound up skittering to Danny on his hands and knees.

He choked back a shocked sob when he reached Danny's side. It looked as if half of Danny's head was gone. The torn flap of scalp, loss of hair … all of it … the wound was grievous and Steve felt the bile rising unbidden inside his throat.

 _Danny had died. Should be dead. Would … be dead._

"No, buddy. NO!" Steve choked again when he saw the proof of his panicked realizations, not knowing what to do or how to help his partner. Knowing deep down in his heart that there was nothing he _could_ do. Tears painfully flooded his eyes and he sat down hard, staring at Danny as he rocked one final time on his knees before a frightening sound escaped from his lips.

A rush of whispered air. A deathly noise of finality. Danny looked at Steve queerly, a mix of fear, confusion ... and even sorrow. A last look of apology which Steve immediately tried to refuse.

" _No_ , _nonono!_ " Steve cried out in anguish as he gathered Danny into his arms just as his eyes gently closed and he fell forward, a dead weight.

 _ **~ to be contiued ~**_


	9. Chapter 9 - Akimbo Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** thank you for all the wonderful reviews and putting up with the "not so one", one-shot. I'm a bit behind in replying, but plan on catching up. Once again, I ask that you suspend all reality when it comes to anything "mock medical". It is just that: mock, make-believe. :-) Any errors are my own.

 _ **Word of the day: Akimbo: Part 2**_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

The nightmare was vivid just like it always was. But even within the thralls of the nightmare, he couldn't speak. His vocal cords didn't work and his mouth remained wired shut. He saw the same thing each time, too. A horrific image of a dead man's face scarce inches from his own. Stunned and horrified each and every time, Danny would try to call out for help or try to move. Without fail though, nothing happened and he'd wake up, drenched in sweat, with that mental cry still stuck inside him.

Danny knew it was an echo of what had happened that day. That dead man's face was the one thing which had really happened. He didn't remember anything else from that day, but he knew this one thing was fact. It was burned forever in his mind's eye.

He breathed in, trying to settle and calm his breathing. Steve would be worried if he couldn't get himself under control. He'd be worried and conjuring up any number of imagined reasons for Danny's nightmare; all of which would wind up being Steve's fault even if it wasn't true. But when it came to this one residual hold-out, Danny couldn't explain himself and Steve would carry the blame. They'd have an argument and Danny would wind up walking away to escape because he couldn't adequately describe the manic images. Steve would leave the house and go for a much too long swim. Things would be awkward for hours and Danny didn't want to go there that morning. So he closed his eyes and waited for his heart to settle and for the terrifying picture to subside within his brain.

A new feeling of frustration bubbled inside him when he couldn't do it though. The nightmare refused to go away; the dead man's sightless eyes stayed at the forefront of his mind. Danny scrubbed at his face and tried something different to break the spell. He opened his mouth and tried to say something as simple as _hello_ or even his own name. He pictured Steve in the kitchen; an easy enough guess since Danny could smell the pleasing odor of coffee brewing. He pictured the coffee and the steaming black coffee being poured.

 _Coffee_. _Steve. Cup._

But there was a disconnect between his brain and mouth. He saw the words. He saw the things which they represented and wanted to speak at least one of them, but something was broken inside. He tried a few times and, rather than get upset with himself, Danny gave up quickly. It was no use because he couldn't utter a single thing. It had been months and Danny literally couldn't speak. He hadn't said a single word since that day. Explained away as an anomaly of some subtle bit of damage inflicted upon his brain from the bullet, no matter what he did or tried, Danny simply could not speak and he still didn't know why. No one knew.

The doctors had no viable reason; nor any of the supposed experts they'd visited over the last many months. Not a single therapy worked. Danny himself was not quite sure or of any understanding as to why he couldn't speak either. He felt as if his brain and, sometimes even his body, were on an interminable hold.

He had changed ... he was different. There was no denying that. He accepted what had happened without too much complaint. In fact, most days, he didn't mind this oddly enforced silence all that much because sometimes he just didn't _want_ to speak. Because, in all truth, things could have been so much worse.

But this morning, speaking was higher on his list, because the _nightmare_ wouldn't let him go. His heart was stampeding wildly inside his chest and he _wanted_ to speak. He wanted to tell ... _Steve_. Danny immediately chastised himself for that as he pulled himself out of the bed, taking more than half the sheets to the floor. He shakily made his way down the hallway, one hand skimming the wall for balance. He felt odd though, out of sorts, and uncoordinated. He swayed and then stopped short before getting a few steps as a sharp pain sliced through the side of his head. The pain centered where the worst of the damage had been done, blazing a trail down his neck from above his ear.

It was debilitating ... new ... a complete surprise. Frightening in its intensity. Danny opened his mouth, a keen wanting to break free. What came out though was nothing more than a low, pained hiss of noise. There was no cry of pain to choke back. Nothing at all. Breathing heavily, panting as he squeezed his eyes shut to ride it out, Danny leaned against the wall trembling and weak-kneed.

Seconds later it was as if it had never happened and Danny tried to shake it all off. But when he rounded the corner into the kitchen, Steve _knew_.

Thankfully empty, the mug which Steve was holding slipped from his fingers as soon as their eyes met. The ceramic mug fell to the counter, an edge chipping off.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked. "What happened?"

In answer, Danny palmed the side of his head, taking full advantage of his shaking hands to make his first point that the dream ... no, nightmare ... had been ... was still ... bad. He felt sick and was clearly upset.

"Okay, okay," Steve said as he soothingly rubbed Danny's arms. "Bad one ... it's been awhile, _huh_? Can't shake it?"

Steve tried to maneuver him to sit but Danny pulled back, refusing because there was more. He stared at Steve hard, his eyes showing all the pain he'd just experienced in the hallway. He gently skirted his fingers over the scar and then palmed his head again. Shaking and admittedly scared, Danny's eyes were shining now. Steve hesitated and then nodded in complete understanding.

"I want you to sit down, all right?" Steve said quietly. "I'll make a few calls ... we'll go in for a quick consult. It's probably nothing ... so just try to calm down. Okay?"

Unnerved, Danny nodded, once again glad that he didn't really need words when it came to him ... and Steve.

 **H5O* H5O***

Steve walked out of the ankle deep water, his eyes on his friend. Danny was sitting in his usual Adirondack chair, a gentle smile on his lips. He seemed content. Happy even. The consult from the day before had found nothing wrong. But Danny had been scared by it and even for all the changes, fear was unacceptable. He seemed perfectly fine now though, as if the incident were forgotten. But Steve knew better. Danny was different in some ways, yet still very much the old _Danny_. He understood things, could follow instructions, care for himself in many ways. Danny could function well enough indeed, and even seemed to have his memories very much intact. So though he seemed content, Danny was most definitely dwelling on the prior day's event.

Steve missed their conversation. The verbal sparring and the shared deeper talks that they used to have while sitting together in those same set of chairs. He distinctly missed really knowing what was going on in his partner's stubborn head. And while Steve could practically read Danny's mind to an almost eerie level, answering unspoken questions or holding what seemed a one-sided conversation, he very much felt that familiar twinge of sadness.

He wanted _more_ because he selfishly missed Danny's voice. He ached for his friend's loss, too. Danny was verbose … demonstrative … outspoken by nature. Half the man seemed to be missing and Steve knew Danny was growing more and more frustrated by this strange limitation.

Nonetheless and as he now jogged over to where Danny was sitting, Steve recovered quickly knowing what could have been. Danny should have died that day. He should have died in the hospital or been nothing more than a bedridden shell — and it was damned miraculous that none of those things had happened.

 _Danny had died. Should be dead. Would … be dead._ Hadn't died.

Danny hadn't died that day. So, here he was now; forever changed but sitting in Steve's yard. Smiling. Apparently content. As healthy as could be expected. Not quite whole, but entirely _alive_.

"Water's nice," Steve said in greeting. "A little cold from that storm last night since things got churned up. But it's great. You should change … go for a swim. It would do you a world of good, buddy."

Steve flopped into the chair beside his friend, his long legs akimbo, his heels digging into the sand, grinning as their eyes met and not expecting a real answer. Danny was still smiling; evidently quite content and the simple toss of his hand communicated his noncommittal feelings about Steve's suggestion.

A blatant _no_.

"Suit yourself," Steve chuffed as he wiped his face down with a towel. "You don't know what you're missing."

But based on the funny tilt of an eyebrow, Danny might indeed know precisely what he was missing and could have cared less about it. Steve smiled at that and followed Danny's new chosen line of sight towards his son, Charlie. The little boy was playing in the shallows with his older sister, Grace. Unlike Steve, the two children had readily adapted to their father's new silence. They had adapted faster and even better than both he and Steve to the unlikely living arrangements which Steve knew Danny was beginning to object to. Steve had insisted months ago that Danny settle within his home. It was big enough and made sense. But that had been then and well … this was now and his friend seemed to be chomping at the bit. A good change, however something Steve wasn't yet willing to fully acknowledge. Especially after yesterday's disturbing event.

Steve managed to grin at that mental diatribe, knowing that Danny was still anxious to resume a more normal existence. He grinned, but then caught the change in Danny's posture at the same time.

"What's up?" He asked.

Danny scowled briefly as Charlie ran a few feet towards deeper waters to get his plastic shovel which had caught in the ripples of a current. Danny tensed and held his breath until his son was back by his sister's side, digging in earnest.

"He's fine, Danno. He's having fun and I bet building up quite the appetite," Steve remarked as he read all the signals the right way. "I'll start up the grill in about an hour or so … get lunch started."

He glanced over towards Danny and frowned. He thought Danny was watching Charlie, but now he was virtually staring into the bright sun, his eyes blinking at the glare and beginning to tear up. What the heck was this all about? Steve was about to say something about that when Danny's lips moved and he made a strange face.

"You okay?" Steve asked, instantly concerned. If not a similar event to what had scared Danny before, the damage caused by the bullet had left him with a more than occasional onslaught of migraines. Often debilitating, they could come on quickly.

"Headache? Danno?"

Though he shook his head to the contrary, Danny pinched the space between his eyes, his fingers intentionally blocking the rays before he dropped his gaze back to Charlie. His lips moved and he inhaled sharply, his eyes piercing now as he turned to face Steve.

"Sun," Danny stated bluntly. He leaned over the side of the chair, his hand flailing wildly as he made a grab for Steve's arm, his wrist … his hand … anything he could grab and Steve met him halfway. Danny's eyes were huge in his face, the sheer shock at an unexpected success clearly overwhelming him. He gasped and then sunk his fingers into Steve's hand.

"Sun … _sun_!"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it is, Danno," Steve replied, his voice low, his tone full of awe as that raspy word came out of his friend's mouth. It was a happy word for a first one spoken and Steve felt his heart clench. Something was happening and he was afraid to break the spell. Yesterday, maybe? What had yesterday ... done?

"Sun … yeah," he murmured quietly, though his own eyes were now as big as his friend's. "S-sun," Steve stammered thinking he should call the doctor. But then Danny was shaking his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. _No, not yet and of course he knew it was the sun_ \- he always had known _that_ \- it was the damned function of speaking it that had been the issue.

"But," Steve choked out. He pointed to the cell phone, wanting to call the doctor and Danny's fingers nearly strangled Steve's as he pulled him awkwardly across the distance between their chairs. Steve winced as the wooden arm of his chair dug into his ribcage and his chair nearly upended.

"What?" He asked. "Danny ... ?"

"Son," Danny said next as he pointed to Charlie. He glanced up to the blazing orb in the sky and grinned before pointing again to Charlie.

"Sun … and … _son_."

He laughed then, clear as a bell. Pleased with himself, his entire face lighting up with an honest glee. He laughed a happy sound which he hadn't made in far too many months, his eyes now settled firmly on Steve's face. He tightened his hold on Steve's hand and parted his lips again, the crinkle around the blue of his eyes deep and full of mirth. He evidently had lots of words rambling around inside his head, he'd just not been able to get them out. Something was clicking now though and he didn't want to stop.

"Friend," Danny said. He paused and cocked his head to the side, his lips twitching as he searched for another word. Inordinately pleased when he found not only that one word, but another.

"Steve … partner … friend."

" _Jesus_ , Danno," Steve choked out as he got to his feet only to sit in the grass at the base of Danny's chair. "What the hell's going on?"

"N'uh," Danny replied, his mouth working once more, his grip changing curiously. Steve was crying silently, tears running endlessly down his cheeks. Danny's face was a blur in front of him and he blinked wildly to clear his vision.

His friend was nervous but still smiling, patiently and even…almost … _wickedly_.

"What?" Steve pushed out, his voice hoarse. He was afraid and didn't know why. "What is it, Danno? Are …are you … _laughing_ at me?"

"Don' call … D'no," Danny said more hesitantly than he wanted, a glimmer of a new frustration flashing across his face. Something was unraveling and he didn't understand it himself. But he wanted more, too. He was demanding of himself an immediate gratification and on the verge of succeeding in spades.

"N'uh … D'nno," the old familiar jest was clearly spoken and Danny was beaming at his continued success. He ground his thumb into his forehead and winced around that smile, refusing to stop.

"Okay. Okay ... take it slower," Steve whispered as he swiped the tears down his face. He coughed, and cleared his throat, a trembling smile not fully committed to. He argued his emotions as he managed a mild teasing tone to meet his friend's ongoing chuffed expression. Danny's head was tilted expectantly and Steve shook his head in bewilderment at the demand.

"Fine. Okay. I won't call you Danno …, _Danno_." He struggled to his knees then, unable to help himself as he pulled Danny into his arms right then and there … staying on his knees, he cried into his best friend's hair. Steve felt Danny's hands come up to hug him back and then heard the disgruntled murmur. He was half-laughing and half-sobbing as Danny kept hugging him back while _voicing_ a _complaint_.

"Wet," Danny complained. "Wet … Steve … SEAL."

Steve's heart swelled and he tightened his hold around Danny's back, his shoulders shaking as he cried even harder. The stress, the pain … all of the guilt had been there just below the surface for so many months now and he just couldn't stop.

"God, what just happened? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" Steve whispered brokenly as he hid his face in Danny's neck. "I love you, Danny."

A major milestone had just been conquered; one that no one had thought possible anymore. And yet, here was Danny once again beating the odds and neither one of them cared about the how or why of it; only that it was happening.

"Love … too," Danny replied as he hugged Steve back. "T-talking … yeah?"

He rubbed a circle on Steve's shoulder before giving him a warm pat when Steve nodded stupidly. "Yeah, you sure are," Steve whispered.

Danny pulled back a bit to see Steve's face then, grinning wildly and yet concerned by the flux of tears which Steve seemed incapable of controlling. Danny paused, that blessedly new thoughtful frown laced across his face and Steve had to grin through his tears.

"What?" He whispered because he suddenly couldn't find his own voice. There was a long, nearly frightful pause where Danny's smile wavered and he almost painfully thumbed his forehead again until he found what he wanted to say.

"C'maro… _my_ …car." And with that pronouncement, Steve's eyes widened and he burst into a bout of near-hysterical laughter.

"T-that's what you wanted to tell me?" Steve burbled a broken laugh as he pulled Danny back into his arms only to hide his face in his hair. He was shaking, but so was Danny. In fact almost uncontrollably since Steve could feel the pounding of Danny's heart as he also tried to come to terms with what was going on. It was scary and exciting all at once, and suddenly Danny was crying, too. No doubt confused and wondering if it might last or be some sort of trick.

"It's good ... so good," Steve reassured him softly. "It'll stick ... it will. It will, Danno."

"Steve ... Steve, n-not ... D'nno," Danny insisted around a partially laughed sniffle. He shook his head and then tapped Steve's shoulder in mock distaste, clearly asking that he be let go. He sighed a raspy, patient sound, his cheek stuck to Steve's damp shoulder when nothing happened.

"Steve. Still ... _wet_. Steve?"

He probably should have smiled, but Steve's laughter ended there. It ended on the sound of his name. His laughter, the hint of a smile, all turned back into a sob as he gathered Danny closer. And then Danny was shushing him, pulling him closer still, the sun warm on his back.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	10. Chapter 10 - Sabbatical Part 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** this is entirely Jlopie's fault ... and an example of a word of the day run amok. So yeah, NOT a one shot here! This story is dedicated to Jlopie and her terrible bunnies, cattle prods and sheer _lack_ of willingness in helping to control the breakfast bunny or the dastardly saber-toothed rabbit (hey, come on! Easter is coming!). Special thanks to Phoebe Miller who had a hand here, too, in NOT controlling the bunnies ... but offering much wise commentary!

 _ **Plot Fix: Danny decides he needs to take a break not only from Five-0, but from Steve. Is it temporary ... or permanent? Can he even really do it?**_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the day: Sabbatical -** a sabbatical year; leave; a break or change from a normal routine (as of employment)_

"A what?" Steve asked. He was dumbfounded as Danny simply stood in front of him on crutches, a knapsack thrown over one shoulder, his car keys jangling happily from the one finger he had free.

"You're thinking of doing ... what?"

"No, Steve. Not _thinking_ of _doing_ anything... taking," Danny corrected him. "I'm _taking_ a sabbatical."

"A... sabbatical?" Steve shook his head. He glanced down at the soft-cast covering Danny's lower leg, the raw scrape on his chin, and then frowned at the lightweight knapsack. There were so many questions rattling around inside his head, that he didn't know which one to pick from first, so he wound up picking the safest one.

"Why? You're cleared for desk duty ... I need you here. I need ..."

"No, no you don't," Danny interrupted, nearly upsetting his unstable stance by trying to gesture with one crutch at the same time. "You have plenty of hands on deck. So, I'm taking this nice break - a sabbatical. A nice, long holiday away ... something like a retreat. _Far, far away_."

" _Away_ from what?" Steve asked in frustration. "And now wait a damn minute! How far?"

"And now you see, therein lies the kicker," Danny smirked. "Not from what ... but from whom. Namely ... _you_. And as far as _where_ ... I haven't quite settled on that yet; wherever the wind takes me, maybe."

"The what? The ... _wind_? Are you being entirely serious right now?" Steve said, incredulous. He stopped then, his mouth working soundlessly as something finally settled more firmly inside his brain. "You're taking a sabbatical ... from _me_? You can't do that."

"No?" Danny argued lightly as the smirk grew across his face. "And why not ... exactly?"

"Because!"

"Because why, Steven? Come on ... I need a good reason because getting shot at every other week has gotten old ... and after what happened yesterday ..."

"You do not get shot at every other week, Danny!" Steve gestured towards the crutches and light weight cast on Danny's foot. His shrug clearly indicated that he thought his partner was being overly dramatic despite some pretty substantial evidence to the contrary.

"You're completely over-reacting about what happened. That's not even from a bullet wound!"

"Close enough!" Danny retorted loudly. Clearly astounded that he even might be blamed for over-reacting. "It's from running _away_ from bullets! Therefore it counts!"

"Oh my God," Steve said in disbelief. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, arms flung out wide. "Really? _Really_ , Danny? Because you _are_ a cop you know and cops _do_ get shot at ... that's part of the job!"

"You're going to tell me ... a trained, experienced law enforcement officer ... that I should _expect_ to get shot at, Steven? And maybe even _like_ it?" Danny's mouth gaped wide, his tone dripping nothing but sarcasm. "Are you trying to _school_ me buddy, because it sure as hell isn't going to work! I full well know the hazards of my chosen profession! What I object to is my partner's gung-ho methods which leave the two of us wide open for being shot at in the first place! That ... and damned near almost drowning as if things weren't exciting enough!"

Hands now on his hips, Steve made a face, annoyed and even on the verge of angry. He tried to stare his partner down, but Danny was unflinching and far from being even remotely penitent.

"You broke cover," Danny replied evenly. "Broke cover ... never looked back ... just kept right on going without backup. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"He was getting away, Danno! Keep up next time," Steve ground out, that thin line now crossed. "You _are_ my backup. At least you're supposed to be."

"Keep up? Did you really just say that?" Danny purred nastily. "How the hell am I supposed to do anything when you just take off so damned irresponsibly?"

"Are you saying it's all my fault?" Steve asked. "So, yesterday was _my_ fault? My fault you got tackled off the docks? The _boo boo_ on your damned _foot_ ... is all my fault?" He was angry as Danny simply stood there, aloof and unshakeable as their mutual tones changed and the argument escalated.

"Could be," Danny snarked back, his face reddening in anger. "Nearly _drowning_ is hardly an over-reaction. Being forced to stay overnight in the hospital is _hardly_ over-reacting, Steven. Needing crutches for the next six weeks is hardly blowing things out of proportion! And by the way, it's a hairline fracture ... a bit more serious than what you'd _like_ it to be."

"Fine," Steve snarled. He waved one hand dismissively towards the door. "Go ... wherever the hell it is you think you're going to take this little ... sabbatical."

Steve stared at Danny waiting but it was all for nothing. His partner wasn't going to give and he was going to be forced to ask. Unable to avoid asking, Steve scowled.

"Where are you going?" He finally asked. But, with a rude waggle of his fingers, his car keys jangling loudly, Danny turned and thumped away on his crutches. It was almost as if he'd been waiting for Steve to ask that very question and he felt his ire rise again.

" _God_ _dam-nit_ , Danny! Where the hell are you going?"

"Bye, bye, Steven!" Danny called out over his shoulder, the soft shuffle-thump of his off-balance walk fading down the hallway.

"Danny! Are you kidding me right now?" Steve shouted after his disappearing partner. "Hey! Get back here!"

But Danny was already gone and out of ear-shot.

 **H5O* H5O***

"He's what?" Chin asked in total confusion. "Why?"

"We're taking a break from each other." Steve blinked as soon as the words left his mouth, too late to realize what they sounded like. Kono chuckled out right as his cheeks reddened.

"That's okay, Boss. We get it," Kono said.

"There's nothing to _get_ ," Steve stated adamantly. "Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Danny just needs some ... space."

"Space?" Chin asked. "Where did he go?" His mouth twitched while Kono only giggled more loudly, and Steve glared at both cousins in silent reprimand.

A moment later it was Kono who gasped first in understanding. "You don't know do you?"

"He said it was a sabbatical," Steve practically growled out. "And no ... I've no idea where he's gone off to. He didn't say."

"A sabbatical? Isn't that kind of ... extreme?" Chin questioned. "I mean, yeah, yesterday was dicey. That guy was out of control on PCP and Danny ... to be honest, Steve, I thought he'd _drowned_. And even his ankle ... he's a bit messed up after what happened down at the docks... he took quite a fall; we all had a bad scare. I'm not sure he's up to being alone."

"I know that," Steve griped defensively. "I'm the one who fished him out of the water and ... and, _dammit_! So, I know all of that, Chin!"

"When he got rammed off the dock by our perp," Kono saw fit to remind him, feigning obliviousness to the stern set of Steve's jaw. "That perp got him good ... I mean, we thought you had him in custody and then ... then he was just tackling Danny as if he was nothing!"

"I _did_ have him!" Steve said. "I _had_ him and then he got a little bit squirrely and ..."

"And then he pulled a gun on you and you lost him. It happens," Chin recounted all too calmly, merely accepting the event's unfortunate fall-out. "He sort of just slipped out of your fingers ... and .. uh ..."

"Barreled smack dab into Danny," Kono said as she slapped the palms of her hands together for emphasis. "Broadsided him like he was nothing ... sacked him like ..."

"All right!" Steve almost shouted. "I get it! I screwed up ... but hey! Danny's fine ... it's not bad ... he's even cleared to work! I know it's just desk duty, but come on! Everyone is completely over-reacting!"

"You gave him mouth to mouth, Boss," Kono said. She winced, her face coloring before she shrugged helplessly. "That's hardly screwing up. No, way. I don't think you screwed up at all ... not once. We thought you got hit. Then the perp and Danny both nearly drowned; but you know how Danny gets."

"No, you didn't screw up at all," Chin readily agreed. "And Danny's just ... upset. He's hung up on things and what could have happened. Letting him take some time off is a good idea. In fact, I don't remember the last time he took some time to himself, so let him this one and let it all go ... you got to let it go."

"Yeah," Steve said as he ran his fingers through his hair, feeling as if he still might self-combust by the stress of the last 24 hours. He'd been up the entire night dwelling on what it had felt like having to pull his partner out of the harbor. At first, Danny hadn't been breathing and Steve had launched into his medical training without thinking.

They'd scared the crap out of each other and Chin was right, Danny was being _Danny_ and his partner needed to get away. Really, after what had nearly happened, who could blame him?

"Yeah, you're right. He just needs a break." Steve said the words but he had a plan hatching. Danny could run .. but he couldn't hide. With a pleased chuffed sound, Steve began to smile.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	11. Chapter 11 - Sabbatical Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** this is entirely Jlopie's fault ... STILL! And I'm not sticking to a posting schedule ... chapters go up as the muse decides its happy. :-) Right now, it looks like there will be 4 chapters. Thank you all for the warm reviews! I appreciate it and wonder if you'll all be surprised w where this goes?

Below - well Danny - ah! What _has_ he done?

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the day: Sabbatical**_ _ **-**_ _a sabbatical year; leave; a break or change from a normal routine (as of employment)_

Arms flung carelessly over his head, Danny smiled happily as he stretched long and lean across the soft bed. He grinned up at the ceiling as he listened to the calls of seabirds screeching to each other out over the ocean. He'd opened the sliding glass doors to the balcony of the spacious suite. The view was spectacular but he only wanted to sleep ... rest ... not think of a single thing except the delicious meal which he'd ordered to his room for a private dinner.

He was finally off his feet and resting. Two very simple things he'd vowed to do as soon as he'd escaped the office ... and his erstwhile partner who seemed to beg, borrow and steal trouble at the drop of a hat. Danny made a face as he replayed the scene down by the docks just one day earlier. He knew that his flare of temper was unreasonable; he'd had no right to be so accusatory towards Steve. Danny could only blame himself for feeling out of sorts and off kilter, even a bit embarrassed for rousing scant inches from his partner's nose after he'd nearly drowned.

Drowned. He closed his eyes and visibly winced at memories much too close to the surface.

 _Mouth to mouth._ Really? It had been ... startling ... to learn that had been necessary to say the least. With a chuffed sound of something akin to dismay, Danny wondered if he'd rather have drowned.

Their murderous perp had been wily, one of those parkour types which made snagging him nearly impossible. Danny had been horrified when Steve thought he could keep up with nearly 75 percent of what the young man had thrown at them. Horrified and then duly terrified for his partner's safety and well-being. The fact that he'd been armed with not only a knife, but a gun, had made taking him down even more troublesome. It hadn't been fair and Danny'd been lost in the dust more than once in the desperate chase.

Steve had had their perp at one point and they'd all thought it over. He'd had the guy trussed up practically and then all hell had unexpectedly broken loose when the gun appeared in the man's gloved hands.

His mood soured now as Danny still couldn't get the images right in his brain. The guy had been damned fast, emboldened by the PCP running through his system, and had slipped away from Steve after firing the weapon between them, leaving Steve stranded on his back and gasping for breath. The gun had discharged _between them_ and Danny was still cringing at the memory of thinking Steve had been shot at point-blank range - suffering from a deadly wound - regardless of his tac vest.

Petrified for Steve but unable to get to him, Danny had tried to block and tackle their perp. However, tables had turned again and he'd been the one tackled first into a pile of crates before being pitched into the waters, arms and legs entangled together.

The perp had been knocked unconscious and Danny badly stunned. The bigger man's body had dragged Danny down and he hadn't been able to save himself, let alone anyone else. Nonetheless, he'd tried, his strength waning quickly, utterly relieved when he sensed two dark silhouettes swimming aggressively towards them. Kono had gotten the perp; Steve had gone for him, pulling him close just as Danny had felt obligated to panic. He'd flailed wildly and then lost the battle to hold his breath, inhaling water despite his best attempts not to.

He'd been unconscious when they'd surfaced, only half aware in the ambulance and then spent the night in the hospital. It was during those long overnight hours that Danny had remembered more of his ordeal.

 _God_ , had it been that bad that he'd needed _mouth to mouth_ resuscitation? From ... _Steve_? Flinging his arm over his eyes, Danny groaned in the silence of his hotel room, willing his brain to stop its relentless rewind. But he was never going to live _that_ down; he just knew it.

He argued briefly with himself until he agreed that he needed the respite; a nice break from the torturous regime of the last few days. Of that split second belief that Steve had been killed. Then of narrowly escaping death himself. He needed the time to purge his brain of Steve's terrified face, inches from his own, water dripping relentlessly onto Danny's wet forehead as he struggled to cough up what seemed like half the harbor.

Ever so slowly, Danny convinced himself that the earlier argument in the offices was part of their make-up dance. It was how they dealt with both the fear and subsequent relief. Steve was fine. He, Danny, would also be fine. He _deserved_ this break. With a newly contented sigh, Danny rolled his head to the left and grinned at the crutches and the soft cast which lay tossed carelessly to the floor.

He wouldn't be needing those props any time soon.

He wiggled his toes and that grin turned into a belly laugh. Tears were streaming down his face by the time he'd gotten the giggles out of his system and he bounded off the bed with nary a limp. If Steve knew what he'd cooked up with the doctor, there would be hell to pay. There wasn't a need for him to find out though. None whatsoever. It was all part and parcel of their dance Danny reminded himself. A minor lesson for Steve in the possible consequences of what could happen if he broke cover, left Danny behind, and stupidly left both of their own sixes wide open.

"Putz," Danny said out loud to no one at all as he wandered out to the balcony where he stood in the warmth of the sun. His mental monologue hadn't entirely worked and he still was feeling somewhat guilty. With a weary sigh, Danny shook his head to find that happy place again. He stood there with his eyes closed, just breathing in the fresh air for minutes on end, until there was a knock at the suite's door.

"Hold on!" He called out as he strode down the short hall to open the door for the stone-faced waiter who refused to smile as he pushed the food trolley into the suite.

"Your dinner," the waiter stated blandly. "Inside or out?"

"Out, I think," Danny answered as he gestured towards the balcony. He cocked his head quizzically at the man's cold attitude and then chose to ignore it; Danny had much better plans in mind and well, maybe it was the end of a long day for this guy, too. Nonetheless, Danny couldn't help pushing just a bit to see if he could get a rise out of the waiter.

"It's a perfect evening, don'tcha think?"

There was a soft disgruntled sigh and a barely perceptible shrug. The waiter straightened to his full height, his face hard and emotionless as he stared down at Danny. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yup, you bet. Thanks, buddy," Danny practically purred as he handed the waiter a tip, pleased when the stoic man deigned to finally quirk one side of his mouth. It was almost a smile; it would have to do. "So, ..." and Danny leaned forward to read the waiter's name plate and smile again. "Ah ... Giorgio. Thanks."

"Very good, sir," Giorgio said as he eye-balled the larger than normal tip. His head bobbed and he met Danny's eyes with a more attentive consideration. Still not quite on the better side of friendly, but definitely more interested in his guest than just a few moments earlier.

"Thank you, Mr. McGarrett," the waiter added. "This is very generous of you. Enjoy your stay."

"Oh, I will," Danny grinned while he raised an eyebrow devilishly in reply. "I'll be sure to do just that."

 _Oh yeah,_ if Steve knew the whole of it, Danny would be in deep shit, indeed. Some innate sense had warned him that Steve might try to ruin his time away by showing up unannounced. And so, he'd disabled the GPS on his car and then, upon check-in, he'd slightly altered his name and used his professional clout with hotel management to change just enough of his credentials. His credit card would not be run through the system until the very last day of his stay.

Still on Oahu, Danny was officially off the grid and virtually incognito right under Steve's very nose. Danny had manipulated his world just a tiny bit. Because what sane person would ever look for ... himself?

Entirely content, Danny chuckled as Giorgio left him. And when he sat down to his rib-eye steak dinner, he didn't lose that grin at all.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	12. Chapter 12 - Sabbatical Part 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** the muse is somewhat displeased over the last chapter so it might not be up tomorrow. It will go up within a few days though. I LOVE everyone's guesses and comments! I hope you each enjoy this next chapter.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

'He has one of our guests at gunpoint," the hotel manager explained. The man was sweating profusely and harried as he trotted along next to Steve in order to keep up with the ex-SEAL's longer strides. "A Mr. McGarrett. He checked in three days ago to our Park Studio Suite and ..."

"Wait! I'm sorry? What?" Steve stopped on a dime and swung so sharply into the manager that the man literally stumbled. "Did you say ... _McGarrett_?"

"I ... I ...did," the manager whispered in confusion. "Why? Is that a problem?"

Almost rudely, Steve tapped the front of his tac-vest where is own name was etched so obviously. The manager leaned forward to read the white letters and then gulped hard, more confused than ever before.

"Uh? So, is he ... _uh_ ... relative then maybe?" He stammered awkwardly. "I'm sorry ... I don't have ... I don't know ... I mean, ..."

"It's fine," Steve interrupted as he heaved in a deep breath of air. "It's probably a coincidence."

The hairs on his neck were now standing up though. It _was_ likely a very strange coincidence, yet even as he tried to explain it off, it all felt wrong. The timing was right in that he'd yet to find his partner and locating Danny had become a bit of a game. Albeit not a very fun one. Steve had come up dead empty on every single lead he had on locating Danny during his little _'break'_ and now, here in the hotel, his senses were tingling.

The situation just felt _off_ as he radio'd his location to Kono and then to Chin.

"What else do you know?" Steve asked as he readied his weapon. _McGarrett_? It _was_ Danny ... he just knew it. But he wrinkled his nose as he chastised himself for being so suspicious. Still ...

"Do you know anything about this gunman ... or about the hostage?"

"The gunman ... he's one of our employees. Well, to be more accurate, he was fired earlier this morning from our wait-staff," the manager explained hesitantly, nonplussed by Steve's change in attitude.

"It was an ugly experience. Giorgio. He ... he was employed here for 8 years and things began to unravel over the last few months. Late for work. Rudeness to our guests. He'd become unreliable, angry. Our guests had begun to complain about his unprofessionalism. He'd been written up numerous times, spoken to; but we were unable to resolve the issues. He wants money ... and an apology ... and I've called the home office. I don't know what to do! Right now, Giorgio is in the hotel restaurant - near the bar. It's been evacuated and Mr. McGarrett is the only hostage."

Steve nodded as he relayed the same information to Chin and Kono. Chin would be entering the restaurant from the rear loading bay and attempting egress through the kitchen. Kono had found a way through the emergency exit which traversed the banquet halls. She would eventually have the best vantage point from the rear of the small stage where nightly bands played.

He would be going through the front door. Directly in through the main entrance where he'd confront the ex-waiter and his strange namesake. His nose wrinkled again in consternation and he shook his head in disgust about the hostage. _No, no ... it just was some odd coincidence._ Checking his weapon one final time, Steve looked carefully into the large restaurant. The room had been evacuated in a hurry. Purses still hung from chairs, left behind by female visitors. A cell phone or two sat on tables, next to fine china, half eaten food and wine. Except for the low, piped in music, it was eerily quiet.

Edging carefully in, Steve rounded a corner, hugging the wall, in order to get a better view of the bar area and stopped cold. In stunned surprise, Steve slowly lowered his gun to the side as he came face to face with the waiter ... and his _hostage_... and their eyes met immediately.

"What the hell?!" Steve said loudly because he simply couldn't stop the startled exclamation from leaving his lips as his bound and gagged partner was thrust as a human shield between himself and the angry gunman.

"Danny?!"

" _Boss_?" Kono's stunned query sounded in his ear, but Steve had no words at all. He knew what she could easily see through the scope of her assault rifle. Hell, she wasn't even that far away at that point. Though she was hidden in the shadows of the stage, he sensed her presence easily enough. He nearly laughed out loud in shock though when she repeated it over the comm link.

 _"Uh, Boss? I'm in place, but is that ... Danny?"_

"Mister McGarrett?" Steve virtually growled out as he completely forgot about the armed ex-waiter. He was deaf to Kono and never heard Chin say that he'd made the kitchen to cover his six. Steve narrowed his eyes at his partner, proverbial hackles raised, as he tried to process not only the scene in front of him, but also what the hotel manager had said. He'd looked for Danny for the last three days and had come up dead empty. Based on the 'cat who ate the canary' look on Danny's still not quite penitent face, clearly this was why.

Steve had been _had_ and he didn't much like it.

"Mister ... _McGarrett_? Is this ... _this_ ... your idea of a sabbatical, Daniel? It sure is one helluva joke."

Even gagged, Steve didn't miss the wrinkling of Danny's nose or tightening of his clenched jaw. Unrepentant, indeed. The muffled grunt was almost disgusted; impatient sounding.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Steve drolled out in response. "Once this is over, you're going to have a lot of explaining to do."

Incapable of replying, Danny merely rolled his eyes skywards before cocking his head meaningfully to the right. Towards the man who was holding him hostage at gun point. The silent demand was obvious, yet Steve paused, as if considering his options.

"Well, I dunno, Danno," Steve smirked noncommittally. "Maybe I'm just not in the mood to save your sorry ass twice in the same week. Maybe I just want to listen to what my new friend, Giorgio, has to say first."

Though he was at the ready, Steve practically dropped his weapon then, crossing his arms causally across his body while he rocked on his toes. His smirk deepened when Danny's eyes widened in surprise. Then there was a change and a narrowing of Danny's eyes in mutual challenge. A moment later, there was a mumbling of sound from behind the gag, the tone of which let Steve guess of the intent of the unintelligible words and he snorted.

"Bring it, Danno," Steve noted wryly.

 _"Hey! Are you two ... fighting?"_ Kono echoed softly in Steve's ear. _"Seriously? Now, at a time like this ... you're arguing?!"_

"Hey!" Giorgio added when he noticed that he was no longer the subject of the conversation; if he had ever been. "Hey! I've got a gun here ... and I'm going to kill him! You hear me?" He waggled his weapon meaningfully between himself and Steve. He shoved Danny forward, forcing him to stumble off balance. Then he rapped Danny hard in the head with the muzzle and Danny cursed behind the gag, wincing at first as his anger grew.

Steve's lips curled in anger at Giorgio's aggressiveness, only then really seeing Danny's rumpled state and the reddish bruise by his temple.

"Put the gun down and take your vest off," the ex-waiter demanded. "Do it now, or I kill hm."

"Take it easy," Steve ground out as he began to comply.

Beneath the gag, the frantic _n'huh-uh's_ went completely ignored. Ignoring Danny's irate sounds and refusing to look at his partner's face, Steve nodded once as he kept his attention on Giorgio. His gun went down on the floor, keeping his hands visible, Steve methodically removed his vest, too.

"So, what did he do?" Steve asked slyly despite the disturbing sound in his ear from Kono because, with that stumble, he'd noticed something very interesting about his partner. So, Kono was right in that this wasn't the question he should be asking. He should be calming their perp ... asking the man what he wanted of him or the posh hotel. Talking him down and taking him into custody. Now though, Steve's eyes were back on Danny's reddening face as he waved his hand idly towards his bound partner. Then, Steve glanced meaningfully down to Danny's supposedly injured ankle, his eyebrows raised questioningly at the obvious lack of the soft cast. The crutches also nowhere in sight.

"Foot all better there ... Mister McGarrett?" Steve couldn't help asking. "I guess that Studio Suite did the trick ... or, is it the fine spa that they have here, _huh_?"

Incredulous, Danny grunted helplessly through the gag. He bobbed his head and then tried to kick out at the gunman, another grunt ending breathlessly when a beefy hand closed off his windpipe. Giorgio was evidently strong and just a bit more pissed off than before. Danny gurgled and then choked, his eyes squeezing shut in discomfort.

" _Boss, the two of you can continue this argument later ... "_ she hissed warily. _"I almost have a clean shot ... what are you doing?"_

"He didn't do a damned thing," Giorgio ground out, his teeth clenched. "In fact, he's a damned good tipper. But I'm sick of being treated like dirt."

He dug his fingers ruthlessly into Danny's neck, then smacked him firmly in the side of the head for a second time to make his point, unaware of Steve's laser focus. "You listening to me? I'm gonna kill this idiot unless I get what's due me!"

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you," Steve growled in warning as he watched Danny's eyes briefly close in pain. That angry reddened mark on his partner's temple was becoming more livid with each aggressive tap.

"If you touch him again, the only way you're going to be leaving here, is in a body bag."

The tone of his voice was suddenly dangerously different and yet, Giorgio sneered, believing the promise to be idle.

"Oh, I mean it," Steve whispered threateningly before the ex-waiter could challenge his words. "First of all, you managed to take a cop as a hostage. And secondly, that man there? He's my partner ... so, if you touch him again ... yeah, you ... Giorgio ... _you_ are not leaving here alive."

"A cop?" Giorgio repeated. "Mr. McGarrett here is a cop?"

He glanced towards Danny, assessing the validity of Steve's information and then shrugged as if it didn't matter. Scoffing in distaste, he eventually wound up shaking his head in acceptance of what he'd managed to do.

"So what ... I've gone this far. You're going to get me what I want or I kill him ... then you."

As if to make his own point, Giorgio methodically tapped the barrel of his gun against Danny's temple as he spouted each angry word. Earning an angry hiss from Steve, he dared to slap Danny even harder for good measure, rocking the blond on his feet.

"You're not going to do anything to _me_. Not with a hostage ... especially one that's a cop! You're going to listen to my demands ... give me what I want from this ... fine _establishment_ and then ... _you_ are going to get me a free ride out of here."

Self-righteous anger ever rising, Giorgio ended his diatribe with one last hit to Danny's head, this time with the butt of his weapon. Virtually cold-cocked, Danny gave out with a genuine grunt of pain. His eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled of their own accord, proving it was no ploy. Left wide open, Steve's smile was wicked as the waiter realized his deadly mistake. He let Danny go just as he aimed his gun at Steve's unprotected chest while simultaneously trying to dodge behind the breadth of the bar.

It never happened though. Giorgio never quite made it.

Steve barely had his own gun back in his hands when two shots rang out. He felt a hot burn slice through his bicep and he winced as he skidded under a table, too late, for cover. But it was already too late for Giorgio because Kono had taken the opportunity.

"Kono!" Steve demanded needlessly as she affirmed the hit.

 _"He's down ... got him! Clear ... go!"_

And Steve was already moving, too, taking the few scrabbled steps he needed to reach Danny's side.

"Danny?" Steve called out worriedly as he removed the gag and then sliced through the zip ties on his partner's wrists. He then carefully rolled Danny over onto his back, grimacing at the spit skin and thin ribbon of blood. Half-conscious, Danny moaned as he tried to get up, his hands weakly slapping at Steve's when he was stopped.

"M'fine," Danny muttered. "L'mme up."

"No, no you're not. So stay down," Steve replied as he kept his hand firmly on Danny's chest, grimacing at the ache in his bicep. Giorgio's lucky shot had taken a decent-sized chunk out of his arm. But ... _still_ ... he was admittedly annoyed.

"Stay down until the EMT's get here. And _do not move_ until you tell me how this sabbatical of yours going for you, _Mister McGarrett._ "

There was a long, long pause as Danny wet his lips. He palmed his head, his hands shaking, squinting at his fingertips which came away speckled with blood. He blinked at the red dots and then, through his splayed fingers, blearily looked up into Steve's rather stern face.

"Hi Steve." Danny tried to grin, lopsided as it might have been, but that failed in spades through an obviously painful wince. "Owe."

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	13. Chapter 13 - Sabbatical Part 4

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** and here we are at the end! Uh, no we're not ... because the bunny lied AGAIN. Darn it ... bad bad bad bunny! Wow, Phoebe ... did this take a turn or what?

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

From where he lay on his gurney in the ER, Danny was fighting to not look Steve's way. With the nurse tending the wound to his forehead, he could no longer hide beneath his arm. And even though his head felt as if it might quite literally explode, he needed to find another way to bide his tongue. His only option was to keep his eyes closed as the nurse glued the wound shut. It didn't matter though. He was on the verge of attack and he could literally feel the anger rolling off his partner in waves which in turn stoked his own ire.

The cycle was becoming vicious.

They were both only putting off the inevitable because they were each primed to continue their verbal sparring. An argument for which Danny had provided Steve with quite a bit of new ammunition. The only reason for the delay in the fireworks had to do with the medical staff hovering around the two of them. But that temporary state had just about been reached because Danny's nurse was finishing up with his care and Steve's arm had nearly been stitched up his attending doctor.

Danny scowled darkly as he sensed the activity waning and when he was sure they were alone, he rolled onto his arm and squinted painfully Steve's way. As he'd anticipated, Steve was staring at him, just waiting for the same opportunity.

"What?" Steve bit out, his entire body was tense, validating that he certainly had his own half-baked agenda, too. "After all of this ... do you really think that you have a leg to stand on, Danno?"

"You took your vest off!" Danny cut to the chase angrily. "Right in front of me ... you put your gun down and ... _and_ took your vest off! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that my injured _partner_ was in trouble," Steve growled right back unflinchingly. "Which you were; so it was a calculated and a very necessary risk."

"Is that what you were doing down on the docks the other day, _huh_?" Danny challenged him back. "When you _thought_ you could keep up with some freak of nature, high on PCP? You were considering all those very _calculated_ risks inside that fool head of yours. And despite all of that on the fly planning, you almost got both of us killed!"

"The docks?! Are you still harping on that?" Steve spat out. "I had that situation totally under control!"

"Up until that freak pulled out a gun ... shot you at point blank range ... and then ... got away!" Danny argued. He blinked through a flux of blackish stars as his vision sparkled annoyingly. Needing to drop his voice, Danny swallowed hard to quell a sudden feeling of nausea.

"You left us both totally wide open," Danny muttered as he chose not to mention what had happened next.

"No," Steve said stubbornly. He shook his head, completely disagreeing with Danny's assessment. "I didn't leave us wide open ... I had everything under control."

Steve stopped talking then. His frowned deepened and he looked away from Danny's face. Pursing his lips, he shook his head again. "Everything was ... well, until he tackled you ... it had been under control, Danno."

The two quieted for a brief moment, considering things but then Danny made a face. He still wasn't quite willing to let things go.

"Well, then. If that's your definition, then I had today at the hotel totally under control, too," Danny retorted. He winced and then swallowed hard, arguing his stomach which objected once more to his surge of emotion. "Giorgio ... that whole thing was buttoned up. I didn't need your help at all."

"That? _That_ was under control? You've got a concussion and a glued head, Danno," Steve smirked, missing Danny's point. "So, if that was under control, I'd sure hate to see ... mayhem."

"Mayhem?" Danny choked on the unexpected word, eyes widening but then hissing as his raised voice rattled his own head. He'd had an important point that he'd wanted to make but Steve had just neatly sidetracked him. He paused, rubbed carefully at his forehead and then gestured Steve's way.

"Mayhem?" He repeated as he tried to get his thoughts back on track around an aching head. "You see that so much every day, it's your normal. So, ... case in point, yes, _the_ _docks_! Trouble follows you like a puppy and for whatever stupid reason, I get caught up in it."

"A _puppy_?" Steve asked incredulously. "Is that the best you can do Danno? Because you ... masquerading around like me ... just to hide like some five year old? That really takes the cake. Besides, you can't blame Giorgio on me because I wasn't even there when it went down!"

"It worked though didn't it?" Danny hissed back slyly, blinking wildly as he saw even more blackish lights twinkling dangerously in front of his eyes. "Admit it ... you tried to find me. You did ... and it pissed you off no end when you couldn't!"

He'd just managed to poke at Steve's buttons again, but Danny didn't wait for a reply. Instead, he lay back down and closed his eyes. He bit his lip hard then, willing his stomach to stop its awful churning. But the room was spinning now and he audibly gagged.

" _Danny_ ..., " Steve ground out through gritted teeth.

"Gentlemen!" Suddenly, the head ER nurse stood between their two gurneys, arms spread between them as if to prevent open bloodshed inside her Emergency Room. She glared at Danny when he peeked up at her. She looked every bit annoyed as he choked and gagged again, his pallor changing to an alarming off-white color.

"Detective Williams ... you're in no condition to be carrying on like this."

"Yeah," Danny muttered as he coughed painfully into his fist. "I'm good ... it's fine."

"If I'm such a trouble magnet, why did you use my name then?" Steve hissed through the nurse, ignoring the woman's adamant glare to keep his voice down.

"I just told you," Danny said as he forced himself back onto his elbow. "The whole point was to get away ... I needed some time away. Have some nice quiet time _away_ for a few days. And it worked, didn't it? You had no idea and I had a blessedly quiet, uneventful weekend. Except ... it eventually caught up with me. You ... _you're name_ ... found me!"

"My _name_ found you?" Steve barked back in surprise. "I didn't make Giorigio kidnap your ass! It just happened!"

"It's your damned name!" Danny shouted back unexpectedly. "So much for calculated risks," he moaned, his face even more pale than before. "It's ... jinxed."

"Jinxed? My name!? You _stole_ it for this stupid, dumb ... _sabbatical_!"

"Karma," the nurse suddenly spouted. She hadn't left the room at all, stunned by their ongoing battle of wills. The clear timbre of her voice neatly cut through their argument and the one word shocked them into momentary silence.

"It's Karma. Pure and simple," she shrugged while looking from one to the other. She crossed her arms, daring them to object. "You two are of the same ... ilk and I've heard enough of this to know Karma when I see it. The universe is definitely trying to tell you two something, gentlemen ... now apologize to each other. You first, Detective."

"Say what? Did you just say the word ... _ilk_?" Danny asked, eyebrows raised as high as they could go. For a minute, he forgot the throbbing of his brain inside his skull and almost laughed. "And ... and you want _me_ to apologize to _him_ when he's the one who takes stupid risks?"

"You got me _shot_ , Danno," Steve argued back. "So yeah, you can apologize first. Isn't that your own rule? When you get your partner shot ... you apologize. I remember you saying that pretty well in fact.

Steve grinned happily at that memory, his smile suddenly lighting up his features. He looked from Danny to the nurse and then back again. "Yup, you owe me an apology, buddy."

"But, ...," Danny started and then stopped, utterly bewildered. He blinked stupidly. He was completely flummoxed and unable to come up with a single retort. The nurse smiled warmly at him and Steve's grin became a jubilant smile. How had they wound up here with him entirely in the wrong?

"I saved your life down on those docks," Steve calmly reminded him. "And what do you do? You steal my name and hide out like a criminal for three days. You fake an injury to your ankle, just to make me feel bad. To what? Teach me a lesson? So, I have only three words for you right now, Danno: Park. Studio. Suite."

"You broke cover both times ... you could have been killed," Danny muttered under his breath. He was rapidly losing steam, his head throbbing with each word no matter how softly he tried to speak. He'd lost his own plot and couldn't get it back.

"I thought ... don't you get it? I lost you down on the docks ... then when that damned gun went off and you didn't get up! I was too far away to do anything!"

"I was _fine_ ," Steve replied. "Totally fine ... but you nearly drowned. I thought you were dead," he admitted softly. "You almost drowned, Danno. But you're ankle wasn't even hurt. The cast ... the crutches ... none of that was real. Why the hell would you do that?"

"You were not fine and I was trying to make a point," Danny insisted. He waved his hand towards Steve's arm as an example, flimsy as that example might have been. "I don't know how else to get your attention!"

"That's just ... stupid," Steve complained. "You always have my attention ... I pay attention, Danno!"

"Karma, gentlemen," the nurse interrupted firmly as Danny's mouth gaped soundlessly open. "Karma. Plain and simple."

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	14. Chapter 14 - Sabbatical Part 5

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** thanks once more to Phoebe and to Swifters for re-assuring the evil breakfast bunny on this final wrap up. And thank you all for reading this tale!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny sat in the lounge chair, slouched down low, the darkest glasses he could find covering his eyes despite the setting sun. He felt better, but wasn't entirely whole just yet. The ride with Sergeant Duke Lukela had been ... a challenge. Not because Danny had begged the older man to maintain a level of secrecy, but more because every bump in the macadam had rattled his head despite the pain meds he'd been given at the hospital. Then, the subsequent trip in the small puddle-jumper had nearly done him in. The noise, severity of vibration and not so subtle dips and turns of the aircraft had left him a wrung out, sweaty mess. By then, he knew that the ER doctor had been right in his advice when he'd reluctantly released him: _go home, rest. Make sure a friend or family member checked in with him. Do nothing more for at least three or four days in order to properly heal._

Travel had not been on the good doctor's docket for his patient. Danny had forged on though, all the way through the final taxi drive to the all-inclusive resort on Maui. And he'd all but crumpled into bed as soon as the door closed to the palatial suite. He didn't feel well and was plagued by odd dreams. There were snippets of time where his rest was disturbed and he'd mumble some word or another before sinking back down to a deeper sleep. Overall, though, he barely twitched for hours on end until well after a mid-day meal should have been eaten.

Well after, he should have taken another dose of pain medication for the migraine which threatened. Something he'd clearly forgotten to do before wandering down to the beach.

Danny moaned under his breath about this oversight as his head gave out with a dull thud. He'd finally pulled himself together to limp down to the spit of private beach where he'd collapsed into one of the empty chairs at the water's edge to dismally watch the sunset. He should have taken his meds first; obviously, he wasn't yet charging on all cylinders. Reluctant to move, he hunched down there now, alone, digging his heels into the sand. Eyes closing again, he measured the level of dull ache left inside his head.

"Not too bad," he muttered under his breath. "Not too bad at all." His tone was thankful, relieved even as he completely relaxed and just listened to the waves hitting the sand, the water receding with a soft repetitive hiss.

Danny was in a deep doze when he sensed that he was no longer alone. The sensation of being watched, roused him and he jerked awake. Forcing his eyes back open, Danny squinted upwards, the man's silhouette darkened not only by his sunglasses, but also by dusky shadows.

"Hello, Mister McGarrett." A deep voice echoed to him on the wave of a soft chuckle. "So nice to see you finally ... awake."

Danny grinned as Steve sat down next to him. "Hey," Danny said sheepishly. "So, about that ...I figured ... you know, using your name..."

"It's done, Danny," Steve interrupted. "And what you did ... well, to be honest, it was kind of ... funny. I couldn't find you at all."

Danny smirked knowingly. "So, you _did_ look."

"Yeah, I did," Steve admitted. "Anyway, so we're here now. You slept for about six hours; I checked on you a few times and you barely said your name ... I was getting a little worried. Here, take these. How's the head ... still feeling sick?"

Danny sensed Steve shifting around in the second chair. Without looking, he held his hand out to the side and chuffed a surprised noise when he was given a cold bottle of water and two pills. His pain medication. Of course.

"Thanks. I forgot ... head hurts," Danny said gratefully. "Not too bad though." He popped the medication into his mouth and took a long swallow of the water. The doctor had been right in that he'd do better with some help for a day or two and Danny sighed in defeat, refusing to open his eyes more than a crack.

"Think they miss us?" Steve asked unexpectedly. "I mean ... except for Duke ... we didn't leave word for either Chin or Kono. "

"Nope," Danny replied before slightly recanting. He grinned into the lip of the water bottle and shrugged. "Well, maybe."

"Maybe ... yes! And Duke ... he just might tell," Steve revised that opinion and Danny's dodgy request of the older Sergeant. He raised an eyebrow when Danny grinned, glancing out over the waters only to then chuff a happy sound. The sun was setting well into the horizon and the water rippled with color. "Okay, I have to admit that this is nice. But ... come on ... you don't feel guilty - not even a little bit?"

"Ah ... nope. Not guilty, Steven," Danny considered his answer and then pursed his lips. "I _need_ ... and I am determined ... to have this break." He'd once again left himself wide open for attack and for a minute, Danny bristled because, despite this rather pleasant conversation, he'd not truly let things go. And he was sure that Steve was also skating around that truth.

"You sure?" Steve goaded lightly. ' _Yeah, skating,'_ Danny thought.

Danny glowered as he tamped down on his temper when his head thumped a dire warning. He sighed ruefully while rubbing at the small strip of white tape by his head, knowing all the while that Steve was watching him like a hawk. Measuring him; testing him. No, Steve definitely hadn't let things go either.

But what they'd just done together was ... unexpected; strange. In many ways, what they'd just done after leaving the hospital, mimicked Danny's own earlier escapade. If they were still mad at each other, it actually made no sense at all. Unless one considered what the ER nurse had declared.

Karma. Their _universe_ \- or whatever it was which made their worlds collide - certainly had a plan for them.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Danny insisted stubbornly. Sure enough, there was a soft snort from the lounge chair next to him and Danny glanced over, the sight of Steve's lopsided grin erasing some of the residual ache he was feeling. Steve heaved in a lungful of air as he measured Danny's expression and nodded as if in agreement. To Danny's absolute relief, Steve chose not to pounce on him one final time. Instead, Steve took a long swallow from the bottle of beer which Danny hadn't even noticed in his hand.

"Should you be drinking that?" Danny asked. "Meds? Antibiotics? Hello?! I don't think that's on the list of okay foods, Steven!" He eyed the bottle, somewhat displeased. Steve's injured arm was still in the sling and tucked tightly to his body and yet, Steve's eyes were glittering happily as he teased Danny by taking yet another and very long swig from the dark bottle.

"I'm fine ... skipped the pain meds. I _needed_ the beer." With a dramatic flare, Steve tipped the bottle in Danny's direction, grinning devilishly. "Love ya, Danno."

"You needed ... _needed_ the beer?" Danny retorted. "Well, so do I! But I'm not because I follow doctor's orders ... so, you know what ...?"

"Nah," Steve interrupted, his eyes twinkling as he paused to take a long, satisfied pull from the bottle. "No, no you don't."

"Yes, yes!" Danny argued back. "Yes! This time I think that I really do! For a beer ... I do."

"That will all change in a day or two," Steve quipped back happily. "Besides, a concussion is nothing to play with; and you only _think_ you hate me right now. It's a side affect of being concussed." He stretched his legs out in the sand and sighed.

"Just rest up, Danno ... relax. We're at one of the best, premium resorts on Maui, buddy. Things couldn't be better and besides, like you said, I'm a big tipper."

"Yeah, you're a big tipper, Steven," Danny grumbled sarcastically. "Huge, in fact."

"You know what, Danno?" Steve said conversationally, completely ignoring Danny's jibe, which Danny belatedly realized was likely a very good thing. He gestured towards the horizon, the reds now a deep blackish-purple. "This sabbatical thing ... it's a great idea. I have to say it ... this isn't so bad at all. _Man_ , would you just _look_ at that sunset?"

"So, you're _over_ me talking Duke into shuttling us to the airport?" Danny asked slyly. "I mean, if this karma thing is true, then ... this was meant to be, right? We're sort of ... stuck together."

"Hmm," Steve concurred. "Definitely stuck, Danno, and with the doc demanding that you needed help for the next twenty-four hours, it seemed right in the end for me to get stuck, too. You shouldn't be alone with a concussion, buddy. I'm not so convinced Duke will stay quiet if pressed, but even with all of that ... _today, right now_ ... this is a good kind of stuck."

"Yeah, today ... right now," Danny whispered, his mood suddenly fickle. His tone completely changed, becoming accusatory and he surprised himself by bringing up the same touchy subject he'd hoped Steve not mention. It was as if he simply couldn't avoid what was so deeply troubling his soul.

"Karma ... _karma_ is great when it's this kind of stuck, isn't it?" He bemoaned.

"Karma? Yeah," Steve grunted in agreement, but the sound he made indicated he'd caught Danny's shift in mood. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, beer bottle hanging down low towards the sand. "Are we really going to talk about this? Again?"

"We never finished," Danny muttered. He wanted to stop himself. He really did, but something inside him was just incapable and he grimaced when Steve hit the nail on the head.

"You ... _you_ never finished," Steve loudly argued back. "Me, I was done!"

Pulling the sunglasses off his face, Danny turned in his chair. "You're only done because you insist that you had everything under control despite evidence to the contrary."

"What do you want from me, Danno?" Steve sighed in defeat. "I think we both got beat up over this; you made your point. I made mine. We're both right ... then again, we're both dead wrong. Aren't we? It's the same thing ... every damned time. We both have our methods. We both have our ... expectations. Let it go!"

Danny sniffed tiredly. Steve was right. He couldn't stop or let things go. And because of that, they often went down this very same path nearly every single time, the question is _why_ did he persist then? If they knew each other so well, then why ever did they - no, he - continually revisit, rehash and regurgitate precisely the same issues time and again? And if things were so bad, why ever did they stay partners?

The simplest answer was because it simply _worked_.

"Freaking karma," Danny muttered to himself as he stared at Steve's sling. Mindful of his bruised head, he rubbed his fingers through his hair and put the sunglasses back on before slumping into his chair. "Ilk ... and karma."

"Probably," Steve replied evenly, his voice dropping back to a normal tenor. He waited the breadth of a heartbeat and then turned in his chair, his shadow falling across Danny's face. "So ... about those ... expectations then?"

"What?" Danny scowled at the question, noting the humor rippling through Steve's undertone. He squinted behind his sunglasses, thinking. He stayed quiet, crunching through things in his mind as he tried to figure out what Steve meant and then he narrowed his eyes in understanding. He suddenly damn well knew what Steve was hinting at.

"Fine," he said. " _Fine_! You got shot ... my fault ... I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," Steve gushed happily. The resulting pleased chuckle irked Danny no end and he pursed his lips in annoyance, the scowl seemingly permanently laced across his face.

"So ...?," Danny ground out, teeth gritted from saying more. "Your turn."

"Okay. Me too, Danno," Steve replied after a long, long silence. "I'm sorry, too. For what happened on the docks ... and the vest." Steve paused for a half-second longer and then laughed out loud.

"But, I'd do it again!"

"Seriously! You would do it again!" Danny nearly shouted as he threw one hand up in the air, wincing when he automatically rolled his eyes in exasperation and his head vibrated with a disagreeable ache. "Now, how is that an apology? _Huh_? You just negated the whole damned thing!"

Steve grinned, laughing more when Danny glared at him.

"It's not right," Danny complained. He shook his head in exasperation, grimacing as that dull thud revisited with a vengeance.

There was a rustling behind them then, but Danny didn't bother to turn around. Instead, he stayed in a huff as their beach-side waitress delivered another tray of drinks. Beer for Steve and more cold water for him. Evidently, Steve had been busy making their stay even more comfortable while Danny had slept.

"Mr. Kelly," the waitress asked of Steve. "Is everything all right, sir? Are you ready for dinner yet?"

"Just peachy," Steve replied breezily as he signed the voucher for their room. He blatantly ignored Danny's soft gasp. "Perfect ... we'll be ordering dinner in about an hour I'd say, come back then?"

"Sure, Mr. Kelly," the waitress replied with a pleasant smile for each of them before leaving.

"Mister ... Kelly?" Danny asked, utterly stunned. "What did she just say?" He turned in his chair and slowly removed his sunglasses. Eyes wide, he stared at Steve in disbelief.

" _Kelly_?"

"What? What's wrong?" Steve asked, biting back a grin, his expression nothing short of pure, unadulterated innocence.

 _ **Tiny little Postscript**_

 **H5O* H5O***

"Where are they?" Kono asked. "And Duke knows! I _know_ that the knows and he's avoiding me!"

She'd first tried Steve's cell phone and then Danny's, with no luck whatsoever. Both went directly to voicemail. She leaned back in her chair, completely confused since Steve and Danny had been released from the hospital ... together ... and yet neither had called for a ride home. Why? Because she'd learned through a bit of detective work that Duke Lukela had taken them ... somewhere.

"They enlisted Duke! Can you believe that?!" She was incredulous. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," Chin replied. He was fighting a smile though as he considered a few options and then shrugged helplessly. "You know, I _really_ don't know, but I'm sure they're fine."

He walked a short circle in front of Kono's desk, fighting his smile the entire time. He was sure nothing was wrong ... yet, he had absolutely no answers for his cousin. With a softly chuffed chuckle, Chin walked over to the large window and peered quizzically out into the dimming purples of the sunset.

He grinned and then just had to laugh.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	15. Chapter 15 - Mirror-touch Synesthesia

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Okay, so you all must know I despise long author's notes, but I need to explain myself here. I was pleased when this first word popped up in my word of the day auto email from 'dictionary . com' and the muse grabbed it in earnest after hearing a news-related article on the radio on the drive to work. Talk about timing! I'm not entirely sure about what has come out here since I think this might have been a better full, multi chapter story. It still may become that since I'm not ready to let the word go ... the _mirror-touch_ version of the condition is just too enticing. But I wanted to at least put the one chapter purge out here as part of my Word of the Day since it came tumbling out. I didn't want to over-think it, so consider this a teaser or practice run.

NOTE: the idea of this word/condition has been used before and with much more skill than this one shot twiddle. For a **real** **story** that just oozes talent, please visit A03 and read Calacious' Danny-centric story, "A Case of Mistaken Identity" - which was in turned inspired by Swifters' most fantabulous stoy, "Fifteen".

Why I can't let this go? So, I did some research and found a fascinating twist (mirror-touch synesthesia) which the muse embraced and that became the word of the day. I can just see so many options for a full, multi chapter story!

NOTE #2: I'm sure parts of this "not so one shot" are _not_ going to be true to the real condition - I am not making light of the real condition. This is fiction folks! Not a doctor; not beta'd. Just letting the muse run wild! Chapter 2 is not yet done. Please be patient!

 **Word(s) of the Day:**

 _ **Synesthesia**_ : _a sensation produced in one modality when a stimulus is applied to another modality, as when the hearing of a certain sound induces the visualization of a certain color._

 _ **Mirror-touch synesthesia. ** A condition which causes individuals to experience the same sensation (such as touch) that another person feels. For example, if someone with this condition were to observe someone touching their cheek, they would feel the same sensation on their own cheek. Mirror touch synesthetes have a higher ability to feel empathy than non-synesthetes, and can therefore feel the same emotions that someone else may be observed to feel._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny's hands were shaking badly despite his best efforts to remain calm. Sure he was scared by the horrific predicament he and Steve now found themselves in, but he wasn't as afraid as much as he was very, very angry. They'd been so, so stupid to be lured so naively into such a trap. Using his teeth, he tied the rubber tourniquet off over his left bicep. Fingers slick with sweat, he readied the syringe against the thickening vein.

"Danny ..."

Just the tone of Steve's voice commanded that he stop; it begged him to find another way. Still, Danny not only didn't stop, he refused to look at Steve: at all. There was no other way. He also refused to look at the three men who'd incredibly managed to make the last thirty minutes worth of their lives, a living hell on what should have been a beautifully uneventful day off.

"Do it," Jacob Grinnell whispered nastily, just inches from Danny's face. "If you do it now ... we won't kill him. We might hurt him a little bit more, but we won't kill him. You have my word."

One of the two men holding Steve actually snorted in mirth, the sound echoing through the quiet of their tomb-like setting. Danny didn't know what the guy was laughing at by that point either. Was it that Grinnell's word was utter crap, or that he might be looking forward to only hurting the ex-SEAL just '... _a little bit more'?_

Danny refused to look directly at Grinnell, too, as his fingers shook and he pressed the tip of the needle against his skin. On the verge of imploding, he breathed in deeply through his nose, letting that lungful of air out through his mouth. He might be refusing to look directly at the man, but Danny knew precisely where he was - what he was doing. The man was crouched in front of him. Breath baited, he waited almost too patiently for Danny to inject himself with the toxin. Literally balanced on the balls of his feet, light and lithe. Long blond hair, hanging loose and softly curling down to his shoulders. A throw-back to some prior hippie generation. Comfortable and at ease, just like a baseball catcher, Jacob Grinnell appeared as if he could quite happily stay in that position for hours on end. And maybe he could, frankly though, Danny didn't care.

"Come on, pig ... do it. It'll feel good ... you'll not only like it, you'll love it ... it's surreal. Empowering _... cosmic_ ," Grinnell hissed through his teeth and Danny heaved in another juddering breath of air because he just knew the man was smiling, his teeth glinting whitely in the dim light. They'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book and were now going to suffer for it. Sitting splay legged,with his back against the concrete wall of the old parking garage where he and Steve had so stupidly chased the three down, he stared at the skin of his arm until it paled into a blur. With his skin smudged by dirt and debris, Danny only vaguely wondered if he'd get an infection or a disease from that filth or maybe from the needle, itself.

Not that it mattered either way because the real deal was what he was about to do to himself in order to save Steve's life. At least, that's what he'd been told; likely a lie, but he had to take the chance.

"Leave ...h'm," Steve choked and his words were lost round the beefy arm of the thug. Danny closed his eyes knowing what Steve had wanted to say. _Leave him alone. Get away from him. Don't make him do this._ All the things which countless others might have said at one time or another. But Jacob Grinnell was not one to stop. In fact, he felt _empowered_ ... he got off on ... the victim's struggle. Especially when that victim was a cop. And more so, when he had an audience and Steve served that purpose quite well indeed.

With one last deep inhale, Danny squinted his eyes open just enough to make sure he'd be injecting the contents of the syringe into his vein.

"Do it," Grinnell whispered as Danny finally obliged, almost startling himself by the ease in which he managed it. The skin, the vein, the subtle prick of pain. It all coalesced and Danny fought past the fearful clenching of his stomach as he gently depressed the small plunger. He sucked in air noisily through his nose and then pushed it out though his mouth as the liquid disappeared. His eyes watered as the clear liquid flowed into his body and just as shakily, Danny dropped the syringe when it was done. Then, he loosened the tourniquet, letting that fall to the concrete.

"Good, good," the man murmured in quiet approval.

"Now, let him go," Danny demanded, his voice amazingly steady despite the way his heart was thudding off-kilter.

"No," Grinnell breathed out so very softly. "I want you to look at me." The command was soft and meant only for Danny's ears. He did look up then, directly into Grinnell's eyes. No doubt, Danny was now blatantly showing his fear. He didn't know what was going to happen once he'd pushed the drug into his body. Regardless, would the man stick to his word or kill Steve anyway? Would Danny live ... or die?

"Do you know what synesthesia is, Detective?" Grinnell asked as he studied Danny's face. Though all of HPD and Five-0 had the autopsy results from Grinnell's prior victims, the question was actually sincere and yet Danny didn't reply.

"It's taken me years to perfect just the right balance of drugs to do it justice ... to bring that experience to life on my terms. What I can't quite manage yet is the experience; the experience differs for each person. Some might smell something and see the colors of the rainbow. Or, conversely, colors might seem to project a heavy scent like a perfume ... or even of decay. In this case, it truly is all in the eye of the beholder."

"And ... death," Danny muttered under his breath as he waited for something to happen. He scowled at the onset of sensations. His skin felt like it was crawling and he suddenly felt uncomfortably hot - _inside_ \- his face flushing in response. He knuckled his chest awkwardly, his head already spinning by the slight motion.

"What?" Danny breathed out in confusion, his fingers trembling and his legs twitching. He scrubbed at his bare arms, trying to get the itch to stop. "W-what ... what's ...?"

He suddenly couldn't think of what he wanted to say though. Instead, he briefly closed his eyes as his vision swam sickeningly.

"Danno?" Steve's voice was tight with emotion. Danny heard him cough again as his breath was cut off and he opened his eyes to look towards Steve, only to grimace when he caught Grinnell's expression, the man smiling, evidently more than pleased.

"Perfect," the man whispered to some internal clock as he catalogued Danny's progression. "Right on time ... just as planned."

Almost all of Grinnell's victims had died. He'd perfected nothing; the man was a murderer. The designer drug which he was so proud of creating was experimental and hideously dangerous. So now, Danny couldn't hide the shiver which rippled through his shoulders. He shook his head in vain, dizzy, and light-headed when it felt as if the hard concrete might be shifting underneath him. Without wanting to, he finally looked up at Steve and he saw what must have been his own fear mirrored in his friend's eyes. Steve's breathing was labored, his face bright red as the bear of a man which had him virtually incapacitated, squeezed harder.

 _Can't breathe._

Eyes wide, Danny raised his hand towards his own throat as his breathing stuttered to a similar, painful halt. He couldn't breathe ... couldn't speak ... and his vision began to frighteningly dim along its edges. His neck wobbled as his eyes flickered briefly back towards Jacob Grinnell. The man was still smiling. Waiting. Watching. Apparently, just waiting to see what Danny would do. What Danny might experience after self-administering a dose of his expensive designer drug.

Eyes ever widening, Danny looked back to Steve, focusing on that thick, tanned arm which was pressed hard against Steve's windpipe. Danny's hands weakly pawed at his throat, his mouth gaping open as he fought to sneak in just a bit of air. He watched helplessly as the second man, the one who had laughed at his boss's words, turned towards Steve and cracked his fingers in glee before reaching into his pocket to pull out a pair of brass knuckles.

Some silent command had been given. The permission had been granted for Grinnell's men to _hurt Steve just a little bit more_.

With his hands cuffed behind his back and held in place by the sheer breadth of his attacker, Steve couldn't move. He could scarcely breathe. Afraid for Danny, he was forced to stand there as the second man almost lovingly ran the knuckles along his cheekbone. With his own limbs now feeling numbed, Danny watched as the second man rudely caressed Steve's cheek, but he sucked in an alarmed breath, flinching when he felt the cold, slick of the metal against his own right cheek.

He blinked. Dumb-founded by the sensation. Mesmerized, Danny didn't realize that his own fingers were shakily skirting over that same spot; that he was transfixed on Steve, and that Grinnell was focused solely on him.

Danny helplessly watched as the second man drew back his arm, the glint of metal flashing forwards as he punched Steve squarely in the jaw. As if controlled by a puppet's strings, Danny's own head whipped backwards at the same time, pain exploding through his jawline. Grunting in shock and stunned by the unexpected volume of agony lancing through the side of his face, Danny fell forward, gasping and trying to get air back into his lungs. His hazy view of Steve confirmed that the thug had loosened his hold around Steve's neck, just long enough for his peer to level that first hit and Steve was hanging forwards, also struggling to breathe.

As Steve sucked in air, so did Danny. One, then two and finally three shallow, panted breaths. But it wasn't enough. That shared respite was short-lived. Without warning, those metal knuckles sucker-punched Steve in the side, caving his body into an uncomfortable arc. Ribs, abdomen, kidney strikes. Danny watched and felt it all.

 _He couldn't breathe again ... he couldn't get past the explosive pain ... something felt broken inside._

"S-stop," Danny wheezed as he inexplicably jolted in kind. "Y-you said...you said you wouldn't kill him." He weakly shook his head in denial wanting to get to his feet, to help Steve and stop the pain that he was in. He'd done what Grinnell had demanded. Why hadn't he stopped? But other than that weak shake of his head, nothing would work. His limbs were all but deadened and Danny gurgled as pain blossomed along his rib cage; each shallow breath dwindling to a pained wheezing cough in complete synchronization with Steve.

 _There wasn't enough air._ He mewled in confusion wanting Grinnell to back off Steve and yet not understanding how it was happening - _to him_ \- who was doing it _to him_ if Jacob Grinnell was simply crouched there?

"Stop!" Grinnell suddenly shouted, one hand raised high. "Stop! Wait ... let me think!"

He'd been watching Danny very intently, every so often glancing over at his men's' proceedings. Almost awed when something finally seemed to enlighten him and Grinnell demanded that they stop now, allowing Steve to hang from his thug's big hands.

"Interesting," the man whispered, incredulous and then almost manically. "What have we here ... _eh_ , Detective? What indeed?"

"L-leave h-him alone," Steve pushed out as Grinnell lifted Danny's head up by his hair to look him squarely in the eye.

"W-what ... what ... d-ddid you do to me?" Danny mumbled as he fought to catch his breath. Grinnell's face swam in and out of focus. He lurched forward, gaining a knee, his hand braced on the wall behind him as he tried to get up. Grinnell giggled, un-offended by Danny's attempt. Danny raised his hand beseechingly as if asking for help. But Grinnell simply scuttled backwards, watching and waiting. Scarcely a moment later, the parking garage seemed to tip on its axis and Danny was sliding back down to the ground, thumping to sit once more. He was scared and completely out of his element. He fought hard to focus on Steve's face, his fear rising when he saw that his friend was now hanging limply in the thug's big hands, his breathing punctuated by a dull whine. Danny's breath adopted the same cadence and tone; he felt the same pain through his mid-section. He felt the ripple of pain through his jawline. But, when their eyes met, Steve's eyes were livid as blood dripped from his torn cheek.

"L-leave h-him alone," Steve repeated and almost instantly, Danny felt a flare of rage kindling inside his chest. That rage offset most of his fear and it escalated as the second man surged forward, his fist sinking directly into Steve's solar plexus to effectively silence him.

"G-get the hell away from him! Grinnell ... stop ... stop this," Danny ground out, his teeth clenching and his face reddening as he tried to get up again ... to do anything to protect Steve. He'd never felt such an anger, his hands bunching into fists, desperate to get up and yet unable to gain more than an inch. With his muscles now trembling uncontrollably, he couldn't get his act together enough for a coordinated defense. Dizzy and feeling more sickly by the second, a veritable river of sweat was trickling down his back to pool and soak through his ruined shirt. His skin was prickling as if insects were crawling over it, and yet it was also over-heated and glistening - all from the affects of the drug.

"Grinnell ...," Danny gasped.

Grinnell was gone from his side though, suddenly standing up to his full height and stalking a wide circle around the small group.

"Give me a lighter," Grinnell demanded. "I'd like to test a theory."

"Steve?" Danny said warily as Grinnell's man handed his boss a lighter. The pain had oddly dwindled to nearly nothing, though Danny's anger was still mirroring Steve's. Knowing that nothing good was about to happen, Danny looked to Steve as Grinnell thumbed the lighter open, igniting the flame. _Anger. Fury. Absolute hatred for the three men_. As he was flooded by the raw emotion, Danny grunted, drawing on the feelings.

"M'okay," Steve spat out angrily as Grinnell until unexpectedly stepped back towards Danny. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Steve's eyes widened in surprise as the man glanced over his shoulder to leer at him, only to crouch down once more.

"So, Detective?" Grinnell asked conversationally, ignoring Steve entirely in favor of Danny. "Care to help me test yet another theory?"

Jacob Grinnell was excited. That was evident by the way his own hands were now shaking in anticipation. Literally drooling about his insane assumptions, he gazed at Danny in a parody of adoration. "You're going to make history," Grinnell whispered under his breath. "You're going to make me famous."

Muscles thrumming as if electrified, Danny didn't speak as Grinnell teased the flame in front of his face, threatening him. The man's toothy smile was already reeling crazily, the fuzzy whiteness of his teeth blurring with his other features. Doing his best, Danny readied himself, expecting to be burned somewhere on his body. Instead, Grinnell laughed out loud as he smoothly regained his feet.

"Watch ... _watch_ , Detective," Grinnell crooned as he held the lighter directly to Steve's t-shirt sleeve until the material caught fire. As it smoked and the flame took hold, he partially turned to watch Danny's reaction as Steve hissed quietly in pain.

"Watch," he whispered with a sickly, avid interest. " _Watch_ ..."

And Danny watched until his own right arm flared up in agony, needing to briefly close his eyes to ride it out just as Steve's shirt smoldered and his skin blistered from the searing heat. It was a small area to be sure, but the pain was significant and Danny sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Steve...," Danny almost begged for any kind of relief. But the drug was already fouling his system; it was far too late.

"Fascinating," Grinnell whispered as Steve tried to shirk away and a series of reddened blisters appeared on his arm. He kept his lips shut despite the pain, refusing to give anymore credence to Grinnell's sick, ad hoc experiments. Across from where he was being held though, Danny had bitten his lip in kindred pain, a droplet of blood now leaving a thin trail down his chin. With a soft thoughtful sound, Grinnell allowed the lighter to go out.

"Hurt one ... but then ... the other. The _other_ also feels the same pain. Empathy? Perhaps. Surely a nice theory, but I bet this runs deeper. Much, much deeper."

Jacob Grinnell gave long pause and Danny, now feeling decidedly nauseous, switched his gaze to the man, worried by what he thought he saw in his expression. For what it was worth, Danny certainly didn't understand a thing Grinnell had just said. He was struggling to breathe and it wasn't just from whatever empathetic feelings Grinnell thought his drug had induced between him and Steve. Inside, Danny felt all wrong. Sickly and shaky; his nerves were high sensitized and his heart was racing wildly in his chest.

He felt as if he was being flayed raw inside and out.

Nonetheless, Grinnell hemmed and hawed. He took his time as if pondering what to do next. Behind him, Steve had soon regained some of his bearings and had begun to struggle, clearly distressed by what was happening.

"I've created a mirror touch synesthete," Grinnell proudly announced. "I bet you don't know what that is ... even if you are one now." He stood over Danny, smiling. Inordinately pleased with himself. "This drug ... _my drug_ ... is permitting you to feel not only the same sensations, but also the very same emotions that you perceive in another. _Ah_! A most interesting side effect! I've only _heard_ of this ... I never thought in my wildest imaginings that I could _create_ it!"

Though he was excessively pleased, Grinnell narrowed his eyes. Clearly some other thought had slid eerily across his brain. Danny stared into the maniac's eyes startled anew by a surge of ... omnipotence. That sensation of absolute invincibility lasted for just a second and then it was gone as Grinnell turned away from him.

"Too much," Danny moaned brokenly, a hand to his head as that too began to ache as if it might split in two.

"You. Give me your hand," Grinnell said, beckoning the second man to his side. Unthinkingly, the man did as he was asked, shoving the brass knuckles back into his pocket. He held his hand out, still not aware of what his boss intended until Grinnell grasped him firmly by the wrist and flicked the lighter open.

"Hey. come on!" The man shrieked in shock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Hold still," Grinnell demanded as he switched his gaze back to where Danny sat up against the wall. He tugged hard when his man tried to pull away, a brief flare of anger making his voice rise. "Hold still! And Detective, you ... watch."

Unable to look away despite the flux of tears in his eyes, Danny did watch as Grinnell turned the flame on the second man's hand. And once again, in complete horrific harmony, Danny hissed as he felt the searing pain through the palm of his left hand. He whimpered and weakly turned his hand over in his lap, stunned when he saw that he was unblemished.

But the pain ... the _pain_ was so very, very real. His head thumped in time to his heart and once again, Danny strove to get to his feet. Now though, just in sheer desperation to escape the sensory overload.

"God damnit, boss!" The man cried out as he waved his injured hand in the air and then vainly blew on it. "Why the hell did you have to go and do that?!"

"To prove a point," Grinnell whispered deviously. He looked down at Danny, his expression one of absolute pride. "Now, to keep you alive ... that will be the trick. The trick indeed ..."

"S-steve ..." Danny moaned as that flare of anger morphed more strongly back into a personal sense of fear. His breathing was off, his heart was beating far too wildly inside his chest. Strangely attuned to others around him, he couldn't keep up and he felt sick and disembodied; the drug had done odd things to him. It was still doing things to him. And yet, based on the man's egotistical pride, Grinnell had found himself a lab rat, _if Danny managed to live_.

The realization struck Danny hard as Grinnell glanced his way. The man wanted so much more and yet, what Danny felt inside was like ... _dying_.

"Kill him," Grinnell suddenly ordered, his hand idly tossing towards Steve as if he were an after-thought. His broad smile showered Danny with an indulgent sense of excitement. "Then ... we get _him_ into the van."

"No," Danny replied brokenly as Grinnell grabbed his arm. "No ... you said ... you ..."

"That was _before_ you turned into such a ... treasure, Detective," Grinnell oozed mockingly. He tapped his temple and shrugged, his laugh echoing through the old parking garage. "Besides .. I lied. And now, I need to know why you had such a splendid reaction to my drug ... _why_ ... and what makes you tick. How I can sustain this ... skill ... perhaps even permanently. Unfortunately, I do _not_ need the Commander."

Stunned, Danny looked at Steve as Grinnell hauled him to his feet. Their eyes met and held this time, long enough for Danny to absorb the absolute rage leeching off of Steve like a sponge. His muscles bunched despite their uncontrollable juddering. His knees locked.

The big thug who had been holding Steve loosened his grip, intending to step away as his peer readied his gun. Danny sensed it all; saw it happening as if in slow motion inside his mind.

Jacob Grinnell draped Danny's arm over his shoulder. He took one step and that was as far as any of the men got because Danny exploded in rage.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	16. Chapter 16 - Mirror-touch Synesthesia 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** after an argument with the muse about how best to continue, I hope this delivers. I lost the two chapter coin toss, too. Not beta'd - any errors are my own and if you see one (or more), please drop me a note! I went a tad cross-eyed along the way.

 _ **Synesthesia /**_ _ **Mirror-touch synesthesia**_ _ **. Part Two**_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve reacted the instant he saw Danny clench his fists. Heart sick, he knew just enough about what was happening to his friend; he also knew that, with the drug flowing through his system, Danny wasn't thinking straight. But Steve wasn't sure that he was thinking straight either. The way Danny had responded to Grinnell's man being burned had been mind-boggling. And now, the way Danny had apparently fed off his own rage and then amplified it ten-fold, Steve was honestly more than just a bit freaked out.

Fueled by adrenalin and anger for what they'd both been put through - especially for what Danny was going through now - Steve struck swiftly. Rearing backwards, he slammed his head into the nose of the brute behind him, hard enough to at least stun the man and send him staggering to the side. With his arms bound behind his back though, his options were sorely limited, especially with the flare of abject pain which seared across his ribs. So severe, he nearly whited out and lost his bearings entirely. But he didn't stop. From there, Steve physically forced his arms to the front of his body, refusing to acknowledge the pull on his abdomen or the strain on his shoulders.

Those things didn't matter at all.

He couldn't stop because Danny had lost total control in a frenzied attack which was doing more than good justice to the tenets of old fashioned street fighting. After that though, Steve couldn't be sure what might happen. The deadly affects of the drug, the near-hysterical look in Danny's eyes, none of it boded well. Their only chance at escape had just presented itself and the singular next step after incapacitating their enemy was to find medical attention as quickly as possible.

Forced to focus on his burly opponent, Steve whirled around to continue his crippling attack. A booted strike took out the bigger man's right knee, and as he crashed to the ground, an elbow rocked his head on his thick neck. Without needing to think, Steve's complete game changer was a second boot to the man's chin. The round house kick was solid and true despite the agony which flared through Steve's midsection. Eyes rolling back in his head, Grinnell's oversized thug fell hard, his head rebounding off the concrete with a thick, wet slap of sound. With no time to spare in considering if he'd killed the man or not, Steve whirled around looking for Danny.

Jacob Grinnell was down. In fact, he'd been down well before Steve might have blinked an eye at the lout who'd been restraining him. He'd heard Grinnell's arm break the instant he'd reacted to cave in the big thug's nose. And now as he got a closer look, based on the angle of Grinnell's neck, there was little doubt that he was dead. But Danny and the other man, the one whose hand had been burned, were both gone.

Other than the two bodies, Steve was now entirely alone.

"Danny!" Steve shouted in alarm, pausing only long enough to dig out the key to his handcuffs from his own pocket. He scooped up the gun which had fallen in the fray, grunting as he did so and barely keeping his footing as his ribs shifted inside with a painful creak, resulting in a chesty, tannic cough. Grunting again in distaste, Steve moved on, ignoring the bad taste which fouled his mouth.

"Danny! Hey!" All caution gone to the wind, Steve called out again, stifling an urge to cough. Yet he heard nothing, not even the echo of a single footstep in the cavernous parking garage. He looked up, towards the concrete ramp and the promise of daylight, but something told him Danny hadn't gone up. Neither man had gone up. Quite inconceivably, both had gone down ... deeper into the structure.

"Damnit, Danny, why would you do that?" Steve cursed softly under his breath. With an arm anchored to his aching side, he took off on a lop-sided jog, confident that he was going in the right direction. That lope soon turned into a careful walk though. With one hand on the concrete wall as he slowly edged down another parking ramp, Steve strained to see what he could in the dim light. Most strangely, it was the tip of a shoe which stopped him in his tracks. Turned on end, toe rocking on the ground, it seemed to be balanced on its own until Steve's eyes further accustomed themselves to the dark and he saw the attached ankle, then the darkly colored jeans.

Biting his lip to prevent a groan from escaping, Steve bent down and squinted worriedly. The shoe was brown, old and scuffed. And as he crept closer, Steve could just make out the white skin of the man's ankle where his blue jeans had ridden up. The dark tribal tattoo was equally telling, it confirmed his hopes, and Steve relaxed as he finally collapsed to one knee next to the body. His hand skirted the man's back, up to his neck to blindly search for a pulse. But the broken bones under his fingers made Steve grimace in distaste and he knew Grinnell's second man was dead, before he could find where the pulse should have been.

Another broken neck. Another dead body ... not Danny, thank god. But certainly, and disturbing enough in its act, Danny's doing.

"Danno!" Steve called out more loudly. "Danny!" He painfully struggled back to his feet, his hand once more on the smooth concrete of the wall. He stopped to regain his equilibrium, swallowing hard to avoid vomiting where he stood as his entire body objected moving. He had no time to worry about himself because Danny had almost no time left at all.

"Where are you buddy? It's Steve ... it's me. It's over ... we need to get the hell out of here!" He listened hard after his plaintive shout. He held his breath and listened as hard as he could until he finally heard the softest of sounds. It was a puff of air on the wind. The subtle scrape of a heel on cement. Then, the unmistakable sound of a frightened exhale and Steve edged forward along the wall. Ever cautious and wondering now _really_ , what state he'd find his friend in.

"Danny, answer me," Steve demanded. His tone was gentle, even pleading. "Answer me ... come on, talk to me."

Instead of a verbal reply though, Steve was startled when he felt fingers ghost along his skin from out of the darkness to shakily close around his wrist. Cold, trembling and slick with a combination of both blood and sweat, Danny clung to him like a life-line.

"S-Steve?" Danny's voice was wisp-thin. "I-I... think ... I'm ...dying."

"No! No you're not!" Steve burst out in shock as he pulled Danny up and into his arms, oblivious to everything else. "No, you're not ... I won't let you."

He vainly tried to see his friend's face but the dim light only allowed him a vague impression of things. Danny was in shock, his face a ghastly white. What he could literally feel through his arms told him volumes more though. As he'd feared, Danny was in very real trouble.

"Let's go ... right now ... up top," Steve insisted as Danny's legs started to buckle and ... having that happen? That was something which he was in no shape to manage. "No! No, I need you to walk. Let's go, buddy."

"No. Can't. D-don't know ... if I can," Danny vacillated badly, sounding lost and absolutely petrified. His voice was muffled as he hid his face against Steve's shirt, his entire body vibrating uncontrollably from the affects of the drug. "I c-can't ...m-my head ... t-the things I-I felt... Steve, I c-can't. And ...inside. S-something's w-wrong ... in-inside."

"Okay, okay. Calm down ... I got you," Steve murmured as his own fear skyrocketed about Danny's apparent desire to give up. "I got you, buddy."

 _But did he?_ Steve was injured, too, he groaned unconsciously as he took more and more of Danny's weight and said a little prayer. The walk back up to the main levels suddenly seemed insurmountable, but their cells had been trampled underfoot on purpose by Grinnell's men. Steve needed to get to their car to radio for help. He could feel the heat coming off his partner like a furnace though; a sickly abnormal heat. And compounding what he could feel, but not see, just hearing the labored harshness of each breath was enough for concern. Danny needed professional medical attention. But with his own injuries, there was no way on earth Steve could get Danny out of the structure on his own if he dared collapse.

"Don't you dare give up on me," Steve said firmly. "Listen to me. I need you to _walk_ , Danno. This is not up for discussion - none of it."

There was no answer. Nothing. But instead of trying to engage his partner more, Steve simply began to walk with Danny tucked to his side, his arms wrapped around him. The going was slow and Steve ached to stop. He tried to manage his breathing and yet he failed, each step resulting in a sharp cough and another tannic scent which invaded his mouth and sinuses. Afraid of the affect on Danny, Steve could only keep going and pray that Danny wouldn't eventually see the strain on his face as they finally gained the first floor to bypass Grinnell's body and that of the bigger lackey.

"Almost there," Steve chanted as they made the first puddles of true sunlight. "Almost ... just a few more steps."

Still distraught by what he'd witnessed earlier, Steve couldn't take the risk that Danny would _see_ and then _know_ and so, he vainly tried to keep Danny's head tucked to his side. He tried to keep Danny protected from what he might draw upon. Because if he _saw_ , then he might be sent into a state of ... _what_? Steve didn't know what to call that which Grinnell had managed to create through his designer drug, but whatever the hell Jacob Grinnell had managed to do with that damnable chemical, it certainly wasn't good. He innately sensed that whatever the hell it was, the stimulus would literally be the death of his partner.

"Hang on," Steve coughed out. He used his shoulder to dab awkwardly at the moisture he felt dripping down his lips, determined to get Danny the help he needed. The scent of tannic blood was strong in his nostrils though and he shook his head to chase his own sickly demons away. Under his arm, Danny was clinging heavily to him, feebly forcing his feet to shuffle along. He was close to collapsing and had yet to speak from that last time in the lower depths of the garage. Panting as one, as they struggled together up the last incline and broke fully into the sun, Steve deigned to smile as he blinked wildly in the brightness and saw a beautiful sight: Danny's Camaro.

"We're ... here. I can call ... the car ... the car, Danno. Radio."

Steve dragged his feet forward one or two steps before Danny simply quit on him and they sank down to the ground together. Despite his best efforts, he was indeed breathing noisily and sure enough, Danny had adopted a terrible synchronicity. But his eyes ... his _eyes_ were what alarmed Steve so very much as Danny peeked out from under his arm.

Pale and haunted by pain - mirroring Steve's own agony when he suddenly coughed, Danny turned ashen.

"I'm f-fine," Steve choked out as he dabbed the blood from his lips and then tried to tuck Danny's head back down. "Danny ... no ... don't!"

"D-dying," Danny gasped weakly. He grappled for Steve's hand, at first fighting his hold before his eyes briefly closed. He gagged and then quieted a bit; his exhaustion was obvious and the drug relentless in its quest. A minute later, Danny forced his eyes back open and grimaced when Steve hacked uncontrollably, his own body once again reacting in kind.

"C-can't ... and then ... w-what if?" Danny's voice trailed off and Steve knew what he meant since it was his fear, too. What would happen when help arrived?

"No," Steve said as he shook his head. "No, you _can_ ... you can because, what Grinnell did? Danno, it doesn't work that way," he promised as he pulled Danny even more tightly to his side. " _Remember_ ... Danny, remember that he made you watch ... you need to _watch_ and see things to feel them. I can help you ... I can and we'll manage. Me and you, Danno. We can manage this together ... I'll get you fixed up. It'll be okay."

There was a drawn out period of silence before Danny spoke next. His voice was eerily quiet, far too subdued. "It's t-too late. He a-also said ... trick ... stay 'live."

"Danny. Just ... shut up and keep your damned eyes closed then," Steve ground out, on the verge of tears and refusing to say more as he clawed himself back up to his feet.

"C-closed? S-seriously?" The thin whisper ended on a fragment of a hysterical sound and Steve lost a tear then at the sheer hopelessness of the situation. It trickled down the side of his cheek and as he went to thumb it away, he met Danny's devastated gaze.

"Don't ...," Steve whispered helplessly. Nonetheless, eyes locked, Danny shakily raised his hand to his own cheek.

It was all too much then and Steve whirled away, gasping in shock and nearly losing his balance. Bent in half as pain wracked his middle, he coughed heavily, unsurprised as he spat a wad of bloody phlegm to the ground by the Camaro's passenger tire.

For all he sounded reasonable, Steve tried to convince himself that Danny wasn't thinking straight at all. He tried to tell himself that what had just happened - hadn't occurred _at all_.

Fumbling for the car door and aiming for the radio, Steve tried to convince himself that Danny was only scared half out of his wits and ... merely _confused_. And that quite frankly, so was he. Biting back a sob which became a ragged cough, Steve thumbed the radio to life.

"Officer down ... I repeat ... _officer down!"_

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	17. Chapter 17 - Mirror-touch Synesthesia 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Thanks to Jlopie for some very helpful bantering and sharing of tact and opinions which the breakfast muse wholeheartedly appreciates! And Swifters for the swift (haha) ... kick ... regarding how best to address the ending.

AND to all you wonderful readers for supporting/reading/liking this series! PS = and yeah, not a doctor. Caveats apply.

Chapter slightly updated October 2017.

 _ **Synesthesia / Mirror-touch synesthesia**_ _ **. Part Three**_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny refused to open his eyes out of a sheer, willful and very selfish desire for self-preservation. It was the last bit of advice which Steve had given him and, said under duress or not, he followed it hours later. To be fair, he had only started to come round and had no idea of the passage of time. He could sense easily enough that he was in a hospital. He could feel the restrictive pressure of the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth; the intravenous running into each arm. If he dared to shift just right, he knew that he'd find other leads or wires or tubes. This was all a given even if the doctors best efforts might turn out to be all for nothing.

But even only partially aware and as weak as a kitten, he remembered just enough to be _afraid_ and so, those words were good enough advice indeed.

He could do this: keep his eyes closed. Not look. Not ... _feel_.

His last conscious memories were seared into his mind, though and he kept revisiting them. Once they'd escaped the darkness of the building, Steve had been unable to hide the blood he'd been coughing up. The blood which had stained his lips and chin compounded the fact that Steve was hurting ... and badly at that. The abject fear which Steve had then broadcasted to him before making that call for help had been painfully overwhelming, too. Danny had _watched_ and had absorbed it all. The emotional and the physical combined into an massive force and he couldn't cope with any of it. He'd been barely conscious by the time the ambulance had arrived.

Jacob Grinnell had described the experience which his drug provided, a cosmic event. For Danny though, it surpassed cosmic entirely and fell into a churning, black abyss. There was nothing for him there in that hell. Nothing to hold onto at all; it only proved that he was dying. The fear in Steve's eyes said that he believed Danny was dying, too.

So not looking now? Hanging on to that one bit of frenetic, helplessly voiced bit of advice to _close his eyes_ ... it was good enough.

Unconscious of doing it, Danny furrowed his brow in distress, ever-deepening lines spread across his forehead. Keeping his eyes closed was easy, because as he catalogued how _he_ felt, things were still off. The skin on his arms seemed to burn and itch at the same time. His head ached with a vengeance and yet his brain felt as if it might be melting. Able to ooze out if not for being trapped inside his skull. Deep inside his core, he was sure that had happened already. Deep inside, there was still that burning heat which wanted to consume him whole and it was then that he realized he wasn't breathing right.

The hoarse rasping sound which he'd been only faintly aware of ... that was coming from him.

Danny's face scrunched up even more. He panted erratically as that internal heat became a physical pain. The shallow, panted attempts to breathe hitched and almost stopped. An alarm went off somewhere to his right and still, he didn't open his eyes. He knew what all of this was now. He'd seen the truth in Steve's eyes no matter what he'd said about making sure Danny would stay alive or how Danny should just keep his eyes closed.

Neither of them could make this better. The doctors best efforts couldn't save him. The drug was just too strong.

The truth was that he was dying from it. And back at the parking garage, long before the ambulance had gotten there, he'd _felt_ it in Steve. Helpless to stop himself now, Danny replayed what he'd seen in his friend's face. A dread that had transformed into a tangible feeling of indescribable fear. There had been no way to hide that. That dread was why Steve had practically stumbled into the Camaro to demand help: Steve had known that Danny was dying, too, no matter what he might have said at the time.

 _Steve_.

As he became more aware, Danny realized that he didn't know what had happened to Steve. He didn't know if he was all right after that call for help had been made. He couldn't remember. Danny had felt Steve's deep physical pain when he'd seen those bloodstained lips. The hacking coughs had resonated though Danny's body as much as they had Steve's ... and he'd _hurt_. He'd felt it all as if it were his own.

 _Pain. Exhaustion. Something inside Steve had also been ... broken._ _Fear_.

Steve's injuries had been bad. Were bad. Danny felt it deep inside and a helpless sense of panic began to form a knot in his chest. He was dying and he didn't know where Steve was ... and that crazy jumble of emotion was too much to handle. Everything coalesced into a terrible whole with his own pain and confusion, and even with his eyes closed now, it was all just too much for Danny to contend with. Desperate for relief, Danny moaned out loud, panting in shallow spurts, that damnable alarm chiming incessantly in his ears and making his head throb all the harder.

' _Steve,'_ Danny mouthed his friend's name under that restrictive oxygen mask. At first no one was there and then suddenly, there _was_. Resolute in keeping his eyes closed, Danny felt the rush of air before he even heard his name being called out.

"Danny ... Danny. Hey ... okay, I'm here. I'm here."

"S-Steve?" Danny's voice barely projected. The alarm hadn't stopped yet, but suddenly Steve was _there_.

"Yeah, you're okay." One hand found Danny's forehead, soothing away the pained furrows within its warmth, though that touch was startling because Danny hadn't realized just how very cold he was. Then, Steve's fingers were wrapping tightly around Danny's hand, unclenching his fist to pull the wad of bedding free. Only then did Danny realize just how badly he was also shaking; his entire body was wracked by uncontrollable muscle spasms.

"Easy. Take it easy, buddy. It's okay now," Steve coached him softly. There was a brief pause and the shrill squeal finally ended; someone else had evidently entered the room, too. Long enough for the noise to stop. Just long enough for Steve to shush and reassure him that he was really there.

"Danny. Hey, you're going to be okay. The drug's almost out of your system. I need you to hang in; calm down and just ..."

"Commander, you need to sit down!" The strident voice came from the doorway, interrupting Steve, and just as Danny carefully squinted his eyes open. "You can't be on your feet like this! You need to sit ... "

"I'll sit down when I'm damned good and ready!" Steve all but shouted, his voice distant as he growled that warning out over his shoulder, his tone dripping with anger. He paused to cough, unable to hide a hoarse groan as another ragged coughing jag cut him short. Still angry, though much more subdued when he finally did speak again, it was to that same person.

"You were _supposed_ to tell me when he showed signs of waking! Someone should have been here!" Steve whispered harshly. "No one was here ... why did that monitor go off?"

Even catching only a hazy view of Steve's silhouette, Danny cringed at the anger he saw there, expecting to feel ... _something_ ... and actually shuddering when a thin trill of rage did prickle the back of his neck. Steve coughed again and when a harmonious stab of pain rippled across Danny's ribs at the same time, he gasped in empathy, the weak sound not quite swallowed up by the oxygen mask.

"Damn it!" Steve cursed under his breath when he noticed the rise in Danny's distress. "Breathe ... _easy_ ... I swear you're okay. There was just a bit of a mis-understanding."

Their eyes met and Danny swallowed hard, riveted. Steve was angry, exhausted, in pain. But that anger was winning out and there was a terrible bubble percolating between them, even if it was dimmer than before. Farther away and Danny should have been able to handle its wider distance. Nonetheless, he couldn't and Danny's already compromised breathing caught in his throat. He shuddered at the leftover resonance of Steve's anger, still sick and very unwell as wave after wave of pain wracked his body. His own now coupled and amplified by Steve's. Perhaps not as palpable as before, but it was still there and just as unpleasant and frightening regardless of a lesser intensity.

Frightened by what could happen next, Danny closed his eyes, seeking refuge in the darkness. _Don't look ... don't watch ... don't feel._ Trembling and trying to free his hand from Steve's grip, Danny almost forgot how to breathe again. His flight instincts were creeping to the fore just as they had back in the parking garage when he'd opted to go down instead of up towards the sunlight ... to _go down_ to escape a terrifying sensory overload.

"I'm sorry! Danny, it's okay ...I'm sorry," Steve whispered desperately as Danny retreated. He let Danny's hand go only to reclaim in a second later, intent on grounding him and making him listen. "I need you to look at me, Danno. Please. That won't happen again. Promise."

"Yeah," Danny murmured, unconvinced as he bravely peered upwards. He squinted through his lashes, trembling and waiting for something to happen. Steve was indeed calmer though and his features oddly serene as he drew in a slow, purposeful breath, his relief at controlling another cough actually caressing Danny's abused system like a balm.

 _That_ was a different experience and Danny blinked in confusion as his muscles slowly relaxed.

"Good. That's better," Steve nodded in approval. He waited a hairsbreadth, his tone low and his wording, careful. "Listen to me. You're not going to die. I know you feel like shit. The doctors ... they're still working on getting your vitals stabilized. But you're going to be all right."

Danny shook his head though. He still felt the fear reverberating through Steve's hand, threatening to displace that odd glimmer of peacefulness. And though Steve tried to hide it all, Danny eventually read that same ongoing dread in his face and Danny shivered, his muscles once more thrumming in warning, as an ominous feeling fought to settle inside his chest.

He'd seen that look and he'd _felt_ this before. There was no peace because he _was_ still ... _dying_.

"T-too late," Danny mouthed softly, scarcely audible. His first words sent a distinct ripple of fear through Steve that was impossible for him to smother and Danny almost had to laugh at their predicament; but he just couldn't find the humor or energy anymore. It was definitely too late and he gave Steve a sad, little smile.

An apology.

"No! No ... don't you dare do that again! Don't go there," Steve whispered earnestly, the words falling from his lips in a rush. "Please ... you have to believe me."

He coughed when he breathed in too quickly, his eyes crinkling in distress. Inadvertently making Danny wince in kind as a distorted version of white hot pain cramped his own ribcage. They stared at each other, not knowing what to do, both still afraid, with Steve muttering a disgusted curse under his breath for what he'd accidentally done. _Again_.

"It's my fault ... I couldn't control my emotions. I couldn't and I'm not doing a good job right now, either. So, maybe I shouldn't be here; maybe this was a bad idea because you scared the crap out of me back there with Grinnell. But I need you to understand that I _was_ just scared to shit back there and I know ... I know you _saw_ that. Danny, we scared each other ... and I've been waiting hours for you to wake up because ... _because_ I thought ... I _thought_ I _was_ going to kill you. But ... the _doctors_ , they've got your system nearly stabilized and you're going to be fine."

Danny shook his head to object, his brow furrowing deeply in confusion under the steady weight of Steve's hand. Steve was _hurt_ and Steve was _upset_ and both of those things were sapping Danny's ability to pay attention. He was also talking far too quickly for Danny to keep up. Stuck on a few stray words here and there, Danny shook his head, miserable, as Steve launched into another softly voiced urgent plea.

"The drug _is_ almost out of your system; the worst of your reaction is over. But there's enough of the thing left in your bloodstream which is still amplifying what you _think_ you're feeling and reading off other people ... so, I need you to hang in; calm down and just ... you know what? I'll go. Okay? The nurses and the doctors know what to do to avoid triggering anything. And you're so much better already. Maybe in a day or two ... or even a few hours, I can come back ..."

"No," Danny whispered as he finally, _finally_ heard and understood what Steve was saying. What he was so badly trying to apologize for. _Nearly killing him?_ And now? Now, he was going to ... _go?_ Wait ... he'd just said that he'd ... _come back?_ That meant he was ... _leaving_? That hadn't been the plan back in the parking garage. And while Danny might be confused by barely remembered snippets of what had happened with Grinnell, he sure remembered Steve's promises.

"No," he repeated aimlessly, his stress on the rise. "No, _no_..."

"No? No, what ... what's wrong?" Steve struggled to ask quietly. He was fighting to school his features, to not cough, to stay calmly on an even keel, and if Steve hadn't been so similarly out of sorts, Danny knew that he might have smiled at the woeful attempts.

They knew each other too well and that was bad ... but it was also, good. Maybe. Sick and confused, Danny didn't know anymore as his muscles continued their uncontrollable tremble.

Steve was upset ... he cared so much ... he kept blaming himself for every single one of Danny's visceral responses and was ready to beat a hasty retreat until the doctors could give the all clear. He was stupidly trying to apologize for something which was not his fault; but which in truth back then, no ... _no_ , Danny was wrong to call it stupid. It sure hadn't been so stupid back then and Steve was still very much dwelling on it.

And quite frankly, he was right to do so since Danny wasn't at all sure he was going to be all right.

It was true that Danny still felt so very sick and his insides were just _wrong;_ he thought he'd have died by now. He should have died by now. Yet, here he was and here was Steve hanging onto his fingers so tightly that Danny could almost hear the bones creaking. The drug-induced synesthesia was weaker but still allowing him to pick up on too much stimuli.

Shoddy as it was, he wanted to follow their original plan. Having people he didn't know around him would be so much more worse and so much more problematic. Inside ... _inside_ ... Danny knew that he wanted the familiar ... he wanted someone he _trusted_.

He wanted someone who cared so much for him that he wouldn't be allowed to _die_. He _wanted_ Steve to stay with him as he'd promised.

"Stay ... you s-said," Danny whispered. He stammered, trying to find the right words in his musty memory. "You _said_ ... we'd ride this out t-together. I r-remember that m-much. S-stay."

"But. Are you sure?" Steve asked quietly. "Danny ... I could really screw this up. I almost have." He left the ' _again_ ' hanging unspoken. Hesitating, Steve searched Danny's face. His posture shifted in a matter of seconds when Danny nodded and then incredibly, shrugged. Almost instantly, the worry left Steve's eyes and his expression lightened. He dared to grin and chuffed an odd sound. A _happy_ sound.

 _Happy_. Danny picked up on a new sensation. He tested and pulled at it as that happy sound washed over him in a completely different way. It mirrored that promise of peace by touching him so completely that he felt more _whole._ This feeling was good and so very, very welcome, that Danny sighed unconsciously, peacefully. _Thankfully_. His lips twitched and this time, Danny really did smile.

"Thank you," Danny voiced that truth as his eyes unexpectedly threatened to close from exhaustion. "Yeah. M'sure. S-stay."

He was bone-weary and he could barely project his voice through the oxygen mask. This was the right decision though; this was good and what he needed. _Who_ he needed. Feeling calmer bit by bit, Danny inhaled deeply, his exhale fogging the mask. He was still trembling but his breathing had improved. He allowed his eyes to close, feeling that newly shared calm and bringing it in to himself. Selfishly trying to squirrel it away.

But there was another thing wrong and for all Steve's acting skills - or maybe because of his current abysmal lack of them - Danny forced his eyes back open and he lost some of that peace. He watched Steve, saw that arm wedged protectively against his side, and purposefully traced his fingers lightly over his own abdomen.

Steve was calmer and equally more relaxed. Despite the happier contentment, there was a hint of discomfort around the crinkle of his eye.

 _Achy. A feeling of ... breathlessness. Each breath ... hurt. His chest ached. A feeling of absolute ... exhaustion. Nausea._

Danny fidgeted uncomfortably as vestiges of those sensations bled through his mental fingers. He could sense them and they slightly disrupted that happier feeling, but they were harder to grasp and the disruption merely a blip. They were faint. Bad, yes ... but not _as_ bad and he stayed cognizant enough to be able to think this time. Sure Steve was also still worried for him, that was a surety based on the tightness around his eyes and the way he continued to hover near Danny's bedside.

He probably thought that he should have been the one to inject himself with Grinnell's strange designer drug. And Danny sniffed at that while he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully to consider that opinion. Steve would have done it ... no doubt, there. But then Steve shifted his stance and Danny caught the outline of a white bandage on his bicep and Danny's gaze froze.

 _Grinnell and the lighter._ His damned experiment to prove that Danny had had the most remarkable of reactions to his specialized drug. That maniac had burned Steve and left a swath of blistered skin in his path. Unable to see it and with Steve not in any evident pain from it now though, Danny physically felt nothing. Still, he blanched at the memory and Steve noticed.

"What's wrong? Should I ... go? I can go," Steve backpedaled. So disconcerted by Danny's silence and his ongoing close examination of his face, Steve suddenly tried to extricate his fingers from Danny's hold. But Danny wouldn't let go; he was nearly strangling Steve's hand as he watched him.

Danny shook his head in answer to the nervous questioning, remaining silent and just ... bravely ... watching. He had been hurt in the garage. Steve was in pain now and as Danny fought his brain to work, he remembered what he'd just heard that strange voice just say ... a demand to _sit_. Get off his _feet_. That demand had been the reason for Steve's brief surge of anger. With a frown, Danny finally noted Steve's hospital gown. He squeezed Steve's hand meaningfully because hell, if he was going to ... _so not die_... first things first because Steve was evidently a patient under doctors' care, too.

 _Pain. Discomfort._ Danny sensed flashes of those sensations clearly enough as Steve braced his injured ribcage with an elbow and failed at hiding a small grimace.

"You?" Danny asked. He glared at the hospital bracelet with ' _McGarrrett_ ' labeled so clearly, then the white gown and then made a point of noting the hunched way Steve was leaning against Danny's bed.

"Yeah, well," Steve smiled briefly, an attempt at reassurance, his response mechanical. Almost an after-thought, and Danny managed to raise a wary eyebrow, daring Steve to lie.

"It's nothing. A few cracked ribs ... bruised lung ... nothing major. I feel fine, Danny."

" _Uh, huh._ Fine? I c-call bullshit," Danny instantly replied, almost huffy. He tapped his head with his free hand. "Don't think I can't _tell_ , Steven."

"No, I guess you can at that," Steve said. He plastered a smile to his face. "Hey, I got an idea. Maybe we should play the lottery ... win a few million."

Danny blinked, side-tracked by the subtle change in discussion. While he was relieved that Danny seemed to be accepting of his pending recovery, Steve's smile was not wholly genuine, he was still worried and decidedly off balance. Hurting and very tired. The attempt at levity was just that, too. A very bad attempt.

"It d-doesn't work that way," Danny finally said, lips pursed. "And y-you know that ... you _k-know_ that, Steven."

The false smile fled from Steve's face just as quickly as it had appeared and he nodded. "Yeah. Sorry," he replied in all seriousness. "So, what can I do?" He looked away helplessly, stifling a cough into his hand.

"What _should_ you be doing?" Danny whispered on a soft puff of air, not even bothering to fight the ripple of ache he inherited. He grimaced unhappily and briefly closed his eyes as he doggedly tried to continue. They were speaking quietly enough now and the environment around him was calm, predictable. And even if he was being annoyingly evasive, Steve was there and the two were managing well enough as the drug left his system. All of it was good; better than good. Danny was so very tired of trying to cope with just about everything, and it seemed as if they'd finally reached a manageable place.

But ... there was a rather significant _but_ where Danny couldn't bear the risk of quite literally shouldering Steve's physical pain along with his own. Now that they'd talked things out and Danny was in a better place, his earlier request sounded childish. He didn't really need Steve to stay with him per se; just be there at the odd moment or two. Not only childish, it was selfish and unfair because Steve had been injured - he _was_ hurting based on his posture alone. Hurting and absolutely exhausted. Steve would _try_ , but in his condition he'd slip up. He would stay and try to be that buffer. And a fall would be inevitable and he didn't need to put himself in harms' way for Danny. Not any more.

"Bed," Danny whispered with as much authority as he could muster on another weak exhale. "You should be in a bed."

"Yeah." Steve chuffed a rueful sound, but his answer was as honest as the question put to him. "Supposed to be off my feet. Resting. On oxygen ... the doc says the official term is a pulmonary contusion ... it's not too bad though. They only want to watch me...," his voice trailed off uncomfortably as he accidentally used Grinnell's word.

"Do it," Danny murmured tiredly as his eyelids fluttered in warning. "Please." His voice was wispy and he had to close his eyes for a moment to rest before forcing them back open. "Tired, Steve. Really. You, too."

"But?" Steve nodded, yet then looked around, momentarily appearing to be lost. "How ... never mind. I'll make it happen."

"What? M-make what happen?" Baffled, Danny rolled his head to watch Steve leave the room before sighing in defeat. He was exhausted and just too wiped out to press for more. But Danny didn't have to wait long. Within minutes, Steve was back, two orderlies in tow with another ... bed.

"When I said _stay_ ... I'm _sure_ this is _not_ what I meant," Danny protested. He waved his hand idly in the direction of the open door and hallway before letting it drop limply to his chest. He breathed in and then out, and by some miracle found the energy to say a few more words, none of which though earned him a reply. "It's a big hospital, Steve. So, you know ... _Steve_ ... I'll be okay. I'm totally okay now. Just ... _Steve_?"

He could only watch when no one paid him any heed at all, eyebrows raised incredulously as the two orderlies jockeyed the second bed up against the far wall, nearest the door. It was clear enough that Steve was going to go through with this extreme arrangement regardless of Danny's objections. There was just enough room, too. At least, until one of the orderlies yelped out in pain when he slammed his thumb between bed frame and wall.

Eyes darkening, any hint of a smile suddenly gone, Danny hissed in sympathetic pain as the orderly wrung his hand, cursing and practically jigging in place. He looked at his own thumb, knowing it would be unblemished despite the fact that it was throbbing with a vengeance.

This was not good ... not at all and that fear came back in a heady rush. Danny paled and cringed, his eyes locked on the flustered orderly, astonished and dismayed over the empathetic resonance of a simple banged up thumb.

"Uh, Danno?" Steve was suddenly there, calmly blocking his view of the orderly and almost magically, Danny forgot about his thumb. Steve insisted on catching and keeping Danny's eye, a warm smile communicating amusement. A cocky grin that said _'I told you so'_.

"I'm staying," he stated firmly. He smiled broadly as he tilted his head in the direction of the new bed and shrugged rather helplessly. "There ... right there, buddy."

"Yeah," Danny murmured as he nodded in agreement. He managed to smile then too, relieved as Steve's hint of a happier, lighter feeling pleasantly toyed with him once more. "Good idea. Stay. Please."

They knew each other far too well and that was ... _no, -_ Danny caught himself from a negative thought as he dared to relax. _No, he was wrong - not this time._

Eyes burning from fatigue, Danny watched as Steve finally got off his own feet, equally weary to his very core. His chest pinged painfully in tandem with a soft throaty cough. But when Steve sighed in abject relief, his eyes closing before his head even hit the pillow, Danny felt the soothing warmth of that honest, physical release clear down to his toes.

 _No, not this time ... it was okay. This time, he knew it was all good._

Danny's breathing calmed. His eyelids fluttered and slowly closed, finally giving in to sleep.

 _ **~ End ~**_


	18. Chapter 18 - Tetchy: S7, 23 Coda

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Word of the day / Coda to Season 7, Episode 23, "Wehe Ana" ("Prelude") = it fit the word of the day. So referenced whumpage; the muse wanted sweet and sensitive. (AKA - all kinds of sappy, saccharin). Not beta'd and written during lunch at work. Mistakes are my own. Just for fun.

 **Word of the Day:** _ **Tetchy** : irritably or peevishly __sensitive_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny rested his forehead against the door, eyes closed, as he blindly fumbled his key into the lock. He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted if you threw in the headache and the deep throbbing in his chest. Even his neck hurt from where the Queen of all Ninjas had tried to strangle him to death. When the lock clicked open and his free hand turned the nob, he literally rolled his body round into the house, bracing himself against the door the entire time as he re-locked it.

The doctor in the ER had suggested to him that he might do well to stay the night. Then, the compromise when he'd refused, to simply go home and rest, take the prescribed pain medications, and to check in with a friend or family member. Instead, he'd gone back to make sure that Makino was settled and to ease his own mind. He needed the emotional purge and the quiet opportunity to apologize even though Makino couldn't hear him. Secretly, Danny hoped that maybe the comatose man just might have heard something he'd said.

That was possible, he guessed.

Knowing his way in the dark, Danny dragged his feet as he aimed for the kitchen, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and his own, full-sized bed. _Desperate_ to check on his son as he slept in his newly decorated room and in his brand new bed. But once he did that, Danny knew that he'd be completely diverted. He'd become distracted, get mired on watching his son sleep, castigate himself for not being there, or even could quite literally fall asleep sitting up if he dared stop moving. He'd work himself into even more of a bad spot and if one thing was true, the pain meds couldn't be taken on an empty stomach. So, he ignored his fatherly desires and wanted he really wanted to do because he didn't dare skip his first dose of meds. _Because_ , if he felt so miserable now, there'd be no going back later and he didn't need to feel nauseous - or worse. Then, he'd be good for nothing come morning and Danny couldn't bear the thought of not being functional around Charlie when he woke for breakfast.

He'd missed enough that first day; too much. He'd not finished the bed, nor completed decorating the room. He'd completely missed Charlie's initial reactions to his new race car bed. It was almost as bad as having missed his son's first attempts at walking.

So Danny simply couldn't mess up a second full day with his son. He'd need the time to finish decorating the room ... maybe they could do that together in the morning. It wasn't what Danny had originally wanted or planned, but he could make it work.

All of this made him moody. More than that, Danny was _tetchy_ ... a word his grandmother would have used if she'd seen his peevish expression and clocked his cranky demeanor. That word fit him that night perfectly though as he forced himself to mind what the doctor prescribed though he'd rather take that hot shower, go to bed, check on _Charlie_ ... definitely check on Charlie.

Danny had to do it.

He deviated almost instantly, down the hall and straight towards Charlie's newly decorated bedroom. Easing the door open, Danny leaned against the frame, his eyes already accustomed to the dark and he wanted to simply cry right then and there. He saw everything all at once. Charlie, sound asleep on his side, covers already kicked half-way to the floor, a gentle smile on a sleep-flushed face. The FSTASLP license plate at the foot of the bed. The curtains, the car-lamp, the small dresser.

All done by Steve. His friend had even hung the racing pictures; literally _everything was done._

All done ... and _not_ by him. This wasn't the way he'd envisioned any of it happening.

" _Shit_ ," Danny mumbled under his breath, his eyes now welling with unshed tears. He rubbed at the ache in his temple as it worsened in spades as he refused to actually let those tears fall.

"He loves it."

The whisper came from over his shoulder and Danny was too tired, too upset, to be startled by it.

"His Danno ... Danno's the _greatest_ ," Steve whispered next. "Charlie said that ... he loves it all, buddy. A lot, too." The smile in Steve's voice was genuine. Proud and unaffectedly so. He was happy for Danny. Pleased he could help, but Danny wasn't there yet. He wasn't sure he could get there either. He felt like he'd failed in every single way possible.

"It's great," Danny managed to say. "Thanks ... thank you. I couldn't ... yeah." He didn't finish what he thought he should say. He kept his face averted as the tears threatened in earnest now. He meant it; he was thankful. And he couldn't have gotten the room put together without Steve's help. So surely, he was being overly sensitive. Wasn't he?

"C'mere," Steve whispered and Danny automatically turned when he felt the tug on his sleeve. Steve was insisting on leading him away, closing the bedroom door just enough while Charlie slept so they wouldn't accidentally wake him. Caught up in his thoughts, Danny found himself seated at his own kitchen table, Steve puttering silently about. A minute later, there was a water glass in front of him and then a covered plate.

"Sandwich. Eat," Steve said. But then he was literally patting Danny down, searching for something in his shirt pockets and muttering in disgust. "Where is it?"

"Where's what? What are you doing?" Danny asked peevishly as he pushed Steve's hands away. He stared back at Steve, wanting to argue that he was fine as he was visually examined from head to toe. The bruise on his forehead, the red abrasion on his collar bone; it was almost as if Steve could gauge the severity of every ache and pain.

"You look like crap and I know it's from more than missing Charlie's first reaction to his new room. So, tell me ...you've got a bottle of prescription pain meds somewhere," Steve explained rather bluntly.

"Eat, Danny ... where's the bottle though?"

Stunned into silence, his hand just inches from the plate of food, Danny didn't do more than blink stupidly into Steve's face. Only momentarily tabled, the tears threatened again. He'd missed Charlie's reaction ... the room was completely done, and nothing had happened the way he'd intended that day.

"Yo, Danny," Steve said, snapping his fingers under his nose. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," Danny muttered softly as he fished the bottle of pain meds out of a pocket and tossed it over to Steve. He was too tired to have a temper. He should just be thankful because what was done, was done. Heaving in a lungful of air, Danny winced as he let it out low and long. His chest flared and thudded along with his head. He'd certainly had enough for one, very long day.

"Two," Steve said as he handed two pills back. "Eat and drink up, buddy, and then I have something to show you."

"Thanks," Danny mumbled, utterly disheartened, downing the meds without thought. But he grunted in confusion when Steve opened and then propped up his iPad virtually under his very nose. He looked up, confused into Steve's face.

"What's this? Something about the case ... what?"

"Case? Uh ... no. You really are half asleep," Steve chuffed in mock disgust as he tapped the video into play mode. "I know it's not the same and trust me, even though Charlie knew we were doing this for you, his reaction is for real."

"His _what_?" Danny whispered, though in that very moment he knew what the video would be of ... Charlie. The first time he'd seen his room. Once again, Steve had managed to save the day in the very best way he knew how and this time, it was a major Hail Mary.

As the tears dried up and a smile slowly crept across his face, Danny forgot about his body-wide aches and his originally tetchy mood. He watched the video and forgot everything in fact.

Based on the angle, Steve had positioned himself on the opposite side of the bedroom, well in the corner so he could video Charlie's reaction. There was a bit of fumbling and a crazily, rotated view of floor and ceiling until the camera steadied itself on the doorway.

 _"Okay, buddy!"_ Danny heard Steve's voice call out. And, watching now, all of that earlier sadness fled him in an instant when Charlie came into view on the video feed, eyes wide with amazement, his excited shout nearly deafening even through the device's small speaker.

Danny grinned widely as he watched Charlie launch himself into the race car bed, his face beaming in happiness. Not perfect and not what he'd wanted or planned out - but surely, the very best next thing to being darn close to it.

"Fist bump for Danno," Steve whispered proudly into his ear.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	19. Chapter 19 - Holus Bolus

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** so this sat for a week on my PC and got itself lost. AND then the finale happened. Rather than a negative, unhappy thing ... let's go here instead on this rainy crummy day with this crazy word of the day and allow the muse to run amok. "Sort of a coda" to the finale S7;25. Ignored the case, etc.

Plus, the muse said it didn't matter where Charlie got the word from in his little brain ... it's contrived as a kid's word here. Utterly made up. It's fiction, go with me here folks!

Purged over coffee this AM - be kind!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Word of the Day:** _**holus-bolus** : all at once; altogether._

"What?" Steve froze where he was as Charlie crouched playfully in front of him, the fingers on one hand waggling in the air in Steve's direction, his make-believe Harry Potter wand in the other. The long red cape - _where did he get that from?_ Steve thought it vaguely looked familiar. That cape was far too big for his small frame, but that didn't matter one bit as he waved his wand dramatically though the air.

"Holus-bolus! Holus-bolus! _Protego_!" Charlie chanted at Steve, part spooky-voiced, partly serious and then, giggling in hysterics, he took off back towards the kitchen, cape flying behind him. Bare feet thudding loudly on the hard wood floor.

Only one hour in and he'd given up trying to understand the little boy's antics. Exasperated because he simply couldn't keep up, Steve dragged in a lungful of air, cheeks puffed out. Evidently, Charlie's hocus pocus, hocus bolus or holus _whatever_ pocus - was some kind of magical spell he thought he'd throw Steve's way. A Harry Potter incantation.

Harry Potter. Charlie's latest obsession after race cars and toy soldiers. Steve liked the latter and wasn't too keen on the former because he had just had been charmed by a 6 year old. Or, something worse ... like cursed with warts.

For the umpteenth time in sixty-two very long minutes, Steve wished Danny would get home already. How long did it take to pick up medicine from a pharmacy less than five miles away?

"Charlie!" Steve called out as he practically jogged down the short hallway. "Lunch, buddy. It's time to eat because Danno said you had to; for the meds. Danno will be home any minute and you have to eat."

"Don't want to!" Charlie objected loudly.

"Well, like Danno said before he left, it's not up for discussion."

"No! Don't want to!"

Steve groaned under his breath as stalked the little boy down to his bedroom. Except Charlie wasn't there. Not there - and Steve spun in a circle - until he heard the scuffed sound and muffled giggle from under the bed.

"Out. Now!" Steve demanded as he crouched down. "Let's go ... come on." He knelt then on his hands and knees, caught Charlie's eyes and pointed backwards towards the door. "Out!"

"I'm invisible ... you can't see me!" Charlie giggled louder.

"Not today you're not," Steve said, completely exasperated because how in heck could Charlie even _fit_ under the bed? Yet, there he was in all his giggling glory. "Come on out; let's go."

"Yes, I am ... you can't see me," Charlie insisted, obstinate to the core. "I'm invisible, Uncle Steve ... I've got a magic cape."

"Charlie," Steve sighed deeply as the blond head disappeared from view when the little boy crawled farther back. He didn't know what had happened between the office and Danny's house, but something had. A miniature explosion of sorts. Charlie had been so good, so quiet, so _normal_ until ...damn it.

No, an hour at the pharmacy was completely uncalled for; not usual. He wasn't late at all. His partner was teaching him a lesson.

Steve grinned sweetly to himself, the smirk now knowing. Danny was getting back at him for the vending machine fiasco. Charlie wasn't cursing him with his holus bolus wand waving antics, _Danny was_. He was giving Steve a hard learned lesson _in sugar._

"So, little man," Steve held out his hand, beckoning. He'd conquer this. He would. "How about a glass of water."

Water would purge that little system clean; Steve was sure of it. He was determined and sure of it until he got hit in the eye with a spongy, orange-colored Nerf Mega Missile toy dart. The gaggle of giggles which exploded from underneath the bed was too much like Danny's and Steve sat down on his butt with a thump, legs splayed.

Eye smarting and beginning to tear.

Helpless at the sticky hands of a 6-year old. Completely out of ideas.

Yeah. Sugar. It does bad things to a body.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	20. Chapter 20 - Obdurate

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** admittedly light on plot ... more like ' _what plot'_? Humor attempt ... giggle maybe? Not beta'd any mistakes, mine own as usual.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day:**_ **Obdurate** – stubbornly refusing to change one's opinion or course of action; stubbornly persistent in wrongdoing; unmoved by persuasion, pity, or tender feelings; stubborn; unyielding; stubbornly resistant to moral influence; persistently impenitent; hardened in feelings.

They were both obdurate in their own ways. Both thinking that - on any given day - their own plan of action was best to follow. But it was Danny who usually gave in to Steve's wheedling. One, because Steve would just follow through on his own anyway; sans backup. Unrepentant in every single way imaginable. Bringing obdurate to a whole new level as he blamed Danny for being negative or short-sighted or argumentative. And maybe Danny was all those things because he was of the same stubborn tendencies and unused to being challenged. At least in his past lives, he was completely unaccustomed to having a partner simply shrug him off and choose a conflicting course of action.

And yet, it was Danny who had to be the one who gave in. _He_ had to. Always. Because secondly, … well, was there a second reason? If there was, maybe it was Danny's penchant for being far too courteous to the chain of command. Friends or not. Partners or not. Disagreements not withstanding. Steve was still his boss and he was still the back up.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't as mad as a hornet for _giving in_ to Steve's ridiculous plan that very morning. As if he'd had a choice.

"You stubborn pain in the ass," Danny muttered under his breath as he just about leaned on the bloody wound in Steve's upper thigh in an attempt to get the bleeding to stop. "This didn't have to happen. Why don't you ever listen to me?"

A gentle misty rain pelted his back, soft enough to ignore but persistent enough to soak his shirt all the way through. He scarcely noticed it.

"I _do_ ," Steve insisted, breathless through gritted teeth, his hands covering Danny's as he switched between helping to stem the flow of blood and trying to peel his partner's fingers off his leg. "A-all the time. I l-listen to y-you all the t-time, Danno."

"Yeah? Really?" Danny responded sarcastically He rocked uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, snorting in disgust as he examined Steve's pale, sweaty face. His dark hair glistened from the dewy raindrops, distracting as they clung lightly to individual strands of hair. "It doesn't count _after_ the fact now, does it?"

The two stared at each other for a hairsbreadth. One challenging the other, each refusing to give in, and Danny smirked in disgust when Steve literally shrugged. The subsequent soft smirk was telling, too.

"Figures," Danny snarked, shaking his head because if that shrug was an attempt at an apology, he could well do without it thank you very much.

"Shut up, Danno," Steve hissed. "It worked didn't it?" He meant to motion to their deceased perp. Instead, Steve moaned under his breath, biting back a cough and Danny hummed a disgusted sound in his throat.

"Fine," Danny ground out with absolutely no intention of holding his tongue. "But that all depends on your definition of _worked_." He glared down at Steve and then looked up towards the main road. In the distance, he picked up on the happy sound of the ambulance en route to their location. If his ears served him right, at least two HPD patrol cars were also in transit. They'd need a coroner's wagon too for the body of the perp left lying behind him on the wet pavement. The incident was over; the threat summarily dispatched by a pair of bullets just mere centimeters from each other. However, based on what he was seeing and now feeling under his hands as Steve began to give out with small muscular tremors, Danny still had an emergency to manage despite his partner's objections to the contrary.

"Next, your going to say it's just a scratch …," he began to complain about the wound in Steve's leg, needing to adjust his awkward crouched posture for the pull on his lower back. He was worried and with that, felt almost obligated to begin talking again.

"It _is_ j-just a scratch!" Steve interrupted the growing tirade. "You're s-such an alarmist. G-get o-off … s'fine." He stammered and then hissed again as Danny's change in posture accidentally jarred his leg, Danny's fingers resolute in acting like a makeshift tourniquet.

"No, I will _not_ get _off_ ," Danny growled back. "Maybe the _pain_ will make you remember to _think_ first." But Danny paused and shook his head, still disgusted. "No, forget that ... you thrive on pain don't you? Mine and yours."

"You shouldna given up wear'n ties," Steve chuffed out on a tight gasp before needing to bite his lip to prevent another pained groan from leaking out.

" _Ties_!?" Danny asked incredulously. For a minute he squinted his eyes warily at the odd change in conversation until Steve's point dawned. "Why? _What_? Oh. Oh, I get it! So, I could just have something handy to whip off and use to patch you up every other damned day?"

"They'd at least be good for sm'thin," Steve slurred under his breath, his lips twitching upwards.

"Good .. . _For_?" Danny paused then, his eyes wide, stunned by what Steve had just said. All of it. He shook his head once more before jutting his chin towards his blood stained fingers, the ugly rent in Steve's pants and the red stain gracing the concrete by Steve's thigh. The rainwater collecting on the ground only made everything look worse .

"Scratch? Alarmist … and _fine_? Not to mention my tie collection! Did that seriously _all_ just come out of your mouth at the same time, while bleeding out in my hands? Did you hit your head too and not tell me?"

"You're m-making a m-mountain out of a m-mole hill!" Steve insisted. "It's not a big deal." Though he was still smiling, based on the rivulet of sweat tracing one cheek, the wound hurt like hell. Stubbornly their eyes met again, that dare perhaps a bit weaker now though and this time, Steve relented.

"M'not bleeding out, Danno," he said, his tone now more of a whined plea. "Y-you're over-reacting." He panted, swallowing hard while opting to try and peel Danny's fingers from his leg. One battle in which he had no hope in hell of winning.

"E-ease up … w-would you?"

"No," Danny muttered just as stubbornly, though his voice fell at least two octaves. He narrowed his eyes, measuring Steve's face. Completely displeased by the pallor of his complexion and the strained sound of each stuttered inhale. Steve had once more scared him half to pieces, the idea or plan or whatever it was, put into action before the intention had truly been given due time to sink into Danny's brain.

"Not bleeding out. Course not … this is you every other damned day. Or, depending upon the week ... every single day." He muttered repetitively and then caught himself before accidentally waving his hands through the air in abject exasperation. Nonetheless, Danny winced in sympathy at the same time Steve literally did. He glanced down at the glistening redness pooling between his fingers, once again sensing that muscular tremor.

"Dammit, Steven," Danny bit out worriedly.

Steve's face was pale. He was sweating, beginning to shake and his breathing was off. As far as Danny was concerned, this was bad. As bad as it could be and he almost cursed the ambulance for taking so damned long when in reality, only seconds had passed since he'd picked up on its sound. And it was close now; likely less than a block away and drawing closer. They'd have help within minutes.

Jaw set, rock-hard as he waited, Danny inhaled sharply when Steve's eyes drifted shut. In direct response, Danny's widened even more. "Steve? Hey! You okay?!"

"M'fine. Calm down Daniel." Came the tired, bored sounding response and Danny's mouth gaped open, his emotions getting the better of him. Bored? Or was it really ... patronizing? The signals were crossed. Steve might have perfunctorily answered him, but his eyes were still closed. His voice was just audible. Sweat still beaded his forehead and fine tremors were now coursing persistently through his body. Danny decided that it was all a downright lie. Things could not be farther away from _fine_.

Danny settled on patronizing and made a face. Afraid to move too much, he bent his head to swipe his face against his shoulder. He rubbed away the beads of water and sweat into equally damp material. The situation was unnecessary and Steve's comments, mind boggling. A tie? _That_ was his best solution? Danny's scowl deepened.

"Oh sure! You're perfectly fine," he grumbled unhappily as Steve winced once more. "But … _but_ I should start wearing ties again … just in case something happens. Something … like this … _today_ ...happens! So I could have something handy which works as a better tourniquet than my own two hands!" His voice rose, its tenor now combatting that of the ambulance's shrill siren which was finally … _finally_ … so close, that it meant the vehicle was pulling up behind his car.

"I tell you what _Steven_ ... that makes no sense. And do you know why that makes no sense? Because there's not enough ties in the world to keep up with demand!" Out of breath, Danny stopped then, willing himself to calm down, a small puff of air escaping through his pursed lips. "Of _course_ though, in your feeble little mind, it doesn't matter. I _should_ totally go back to wearing ties again because that totally makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yup," Steve breathed out, his lips quirking upwards again into a soft smile. "Sure does, Danno."

"You stubborn pain in the ass. It does like hell!"

Footsteps now thudding behind him, Danny glanced over his shoulder, utterly relieved to see two paramedics jogging towards them. The one in the lead, smiled in welcome, his face familiar even if his name momentarily escaped Danny's brain.

"Detective Williams. Commander McGarrett. You two all right there?" He called out.

"No!" Danny barked back at the same time, Steve opened his eyes, grinned rudely up at his partner and shouted ... "Yes"!

 _ **~ END. ~**_


	21. Chapter 21 - Stupefy - Part 1

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** got nuthin' ... liked the word and not much plot. Much bromance and caring though ... see an error? please let me know. thanks!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Word of the Day: Stupefy -** to put into a state of little or no sensibility; benumb the faculties of; put into a stupor. to stun, as with a narcotic, a shock, or a strong emotion. to overwhelm with amazement; astound; astonish.

He trudged down the sandy lane, limping and disheveled. The beach and the blue of the Pacific Ocean were behind him; the city, his ultimate destination, was far ahead.

He coughed as he walked, tasting dried blood on his lips. His throat was bone-dry and he wanted nothing more than to sit down in the shade. However, he didn't have time to do anything but continually put distance between himself and the small enclave where he'd been secreted. With his eyes cast mostly downwards as he squinted against the glare of the sun, he was determined to simply put one foot squarely in front of the other. Feet that were bare and steadily growing more sensitive to the uneven roughness of the hot, pebbly path and doing his very best to ignore the pain from the ankle he'd twisted somewhere along the way.

A few minutes later, he stopped though. He had to stop, wavering unsteadily, his feet throbbing in time to the ache in his head. He glanced over his shoulder and lost his balance, nearly falling to his knees. There was no one behind him though. No one and nothing but that empty, lonely path and the rocky beach.

Gulls called out overhead and he blinked tiredly, finally trusting that he wasn't being followed by the men who'd used him as cover for their escape.

Perhaps they just didn't care about him anymore because they had gotten their way. They'd gotten their money and the bulk of their illicit arms. And even though he was a cop and offered them some modicum of early protection, for all intents and purposes, they just hadn't needed him anymore. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that his escape had been far too easy. He'd been allowed to leave.

 _Maybe_.

He doubted everything. He heaved in a broken breath of hot air and coughed heavily, his throat feeling as if he'd swallowed glass. He stared over his shoulder again, wondering if he was really being toyed with. Maybe his freedom was part of some terrible game. Letting him go only to catch him again … to toy with him … like stray cats with a bedraggled, worn-down mouse.

But no, that didn't make sense. It wasn't their way. He was free more likely because they didn't care about him at all; they'd seen their next window of opportunity to simply get away free and clear. They had taken it much like he had done the same in order to be free and clear of them.

No matter the reason, he needed to keep going. He might have escaped, but he wasn't at all convinced he'd make it home. Turning, he forced his body forward again, swaying with every step. He used his ruined shirt sleeve to swipe at the grimy volume of sweat streaming down his face. It would be nearly impossible to even identify the true color of that once perfectly dry-cleaned and pressed shirt. Now, parts of it were in tatters. The entirety of it stained from sweat or blood or just plain dirt. Only the slender hem was tucked in over his right hip. The rest of the material hung out unevenly around his waist from where it had once been neatly folded into his slacks.

 _Had that been yesterday? The day before … or, had it been longer?_

He didn't know. He didn't care. He kept limping along, his arms falling limply to his sides. Head down, eyes squinting against the sun. The only sound other than those gulls, was the off-kilter whine of his own lungs as he argued breathing in the stifling hot air. Breathing hurt as much as walking. It was all too much and he wanted to stop. He _did_ with every fiber of his being.

 _No._ He mouthed in anger at himself. But his face was creased in pain now, every step a torturous trial. He shook his head weakly, his eyes barely open. The white path had turned into an uneven grayish-black swath of old road. Littered with broken bits of macadam, rocks and even pot holes, he had more work in staying true to his goal. Doggedly he fought to keep going until his limp became an ungainly stumble. He winced and gasped at each agonizing step, the pain from his ankle now extending up into his calf muscle.

The sound of an engine reached his ears, echoing through the otherwise stillness of his remote exile, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Truck or helicopter … maybe both. Whatever it was, it was close and completely out of the norm. The sound merged with another engine. The uneven _thud thud thud_ of tires on a dirt road and he winced helplessly.

This was a game then. He'd been allowed to escape as part of some sick game.

He whined under his breath because he had nowhere to go. Even if he did, he lacked the wherewithal to do it. Resigned to what was going to happen, he looked from where he'd come and … saw nothing. But then his eyes were drawn inconceivably skywards. The helicopter was just overhead, sending plumes of heated air downwards and he winced, blinded by the severity of the glare.

In front of him, he heard it more clearly now, too. Not only the turn of big wheels, but the whine of a vehicle's engine; strong, powerful and thrumming towards him at a high rate of speed. Eyes tearing from the strain, he waited then, stupefied when a big dark truck virtually appeared in front of him. With nowhere to go, he stood where he'd originally rocked to a halt. The helicopter's rotors beating overhead, the truck now sliding to a gravel spewing stop just feet from his body.

He waited for the bullets to fly or for the men to descend upon him with cat-calls and fists.

Instead, his name was shouted out by a voice he thought he might never hear again.

"Danny! _Danny_!"

The booted footsteps stopped inches from where he stood swaying, but he was afraid to look. It couldn't be real. In fact, he closed his eyes, his expression one of disbelief. It _wasn't_ real.

 _Heatstroke? Yeah._ That seemed more likely. He wavered more, his knees beginning to buckle. It was hot, too hot, and he was done in if he had to fight. And he had nothing left.

"Do it," he whispered hopelessly as he waited for that one bullet to find his head. It would be more merciful if they just did it quickly.

"Danny, no … hey. We found you … we found you. Thank, God," Steve whispered over and over as his strong hands gripped his biceps and eased him gently down to the hot ground where he was buffered against Steve's body.

"Drink. Slow. Easy … slow, Danny." The commands were soft in his ear as a water bottle was held to his lips. He kept his eyes closed as he was granted slow, steady sips, the hum of Steve's voice now a constant in his ear. Some words were for him; others were orders or updates to the other members of the search party.

Danny zoned out then, ignoring questions which might have been aimed his way. Overwhelmed and exhausted, he only caught bits and pieces of what Steve was saying. Danny lay there limply up against Steve as he was checked from stem to stern for injuries, tutted about and cared for. Finally believing that Steve was truly there.

 _So, what did the words really matter then?_

"Needed four-wheel drive to get back here … chopper can't land." Steve was prattling on and Danny just listened, vaguely understanding that he'd have to deal with a rocky and long ride back to any main road. Sensing then, that he might never have made it out alone no matter how hard he might have tried.

Eyes closed, Danny didn't feel the heat anymore. He only felt Steve hauling him to his feet, virtually carrying him the short distance to the big Silverado where he was eased into the back seat. He was plied gently with more water; his most obvious wounds quickly and efficiently cared for. Eyes closed, Danny let himself sink further down into a buffer of safety and peace while his best friend made sure he was safe and secure. The truck was cool and the sun no longer an enemy in the sky trying to beat him into the rocky dirt of the Hawaiian path.

 _He was going home._

"How're you doing?" Steve whispered. "Hang on me for me, okay?" Danny only roused from his stupor when he heard the worry in Steve's voice. When he felt Steve's hand on his forehead, then his cheek. He forced his eyes open, squinting now only from exhaustion and a desperate want to focus.

"Steve?" Danny pushed out wearily. "Hey …f-found me?" He knew he didn't make sense, but had to say something. Anything to ease the dark worry being expressed in his friend's eyes.

"Yeah, of course I did. Never stopped looking. Not once," Steve whispered earnestly. His eyes glistened darkly in the cabin of the truck. "You're going to be fine … good as new. Let's go home now, Danno, _huh_?"

Danny nodded once, his eyes closing. He'd learn about what happened later; he would catch up on everything later. Much later.

"Yeah," he murmured softly as he let the deep thrum of the Silverado's strong engine resonate soothingly through his body. He rocked bonelessly in time to the truck's movement as Steve turned on the trail to head out the way he'd come in to find Danny.

To take him ... _home_.

 _ **~ to be continued. ~**_


	22. Chapter 22 - Stupefy Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** all right! Gee - so many inquiring minds want to know so the muse has attempted to fill in the gaps and provide some more angsty comfort. It wasn't easy and might be too "wordy" (brings to mind Amadeus and "too many notes .." - sorry squirrel moment and I digress!). But this is what happened and I hope it's still enjoyable despite all the words.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Word of the Day: Stupefy ** \- to put into a state of little or no sensibility; benumb the faculties of; put into a stupor. to stun, as with a narcotic, a shock, or a strong emotion. to overwhelm with amazement; astound; astonish.

 **Part 2:**

Steve stood at the foot of Danny's hospital bed, only half listening to what the doctor was saying while he watched Danny sleep. He was running on fumes after three intense days of failed negotiations against a volley of threats which would be disastrous for his partner should any come to fruition. Fighting against the Governor's stance that they'd not entertain any more of the faction's demands in case a precedent might be set. And of all things, butting heads with the police commissioner who insisted that the department was clean ... which Steve now knew. But at the time … he mentally paused there because he'd been wrong and making excuses now was unfair.

Still, at the time, he certainly had thought otherwise. Ruefully, Steve registered that he'd eventually need to apologize for his behavior. Profusely in fact. His attitude had been far from stellar, never mind the words he'd used and he wrinkled his nose at the memory.

Three days of sheer hell both inside and outside of his ranks still had him at wits end though. Even with Danny now _home_ , Steve was still angry. Arguing, negotiating, fighting a barrage of counter-arguments to no logical end to such an extent, that not one of them thought they'd ever see Danny again. And if they did, only then in a body bag. A lot of it never needed to have happened.

"What? Sorry," Steve mumbled towards the doctor. He had to force himself to focus. The doctor had noisily shifted his stance, dragged his shoes on the linoleum while he fluttered his long white coat. He'd then cleared his throat quite loudly. Evidently he was wondering if Steve was hearing anything he was saying and growing rather perturbed about his lack of attention. He'd be right. Steve grimaced because he hadn't heard a blessed thing at all.

"Yeah, yeah, Doc ... sorry," Steve replied as he offered the man a rather terrible attempt at an apologetic smile. He was way off his game. He should be more polite here. Especially here. However, he just couldn't quite get past seeing Danny stumbling, like a barefooted scarecrow, towards his truck on that hot lonely trail. Disheveled, exhausted and covered in grime, Danny had been nearly unrecognizable. So yeah, Steve was still coping with having found him whole and alive.

Steve shook his head, unintentionally zoning out on the doctor once again. He could still see Danny in his mind's eye. He was still replaying that anonymous phone call inside his head. A phone call presumably from one of the three men as a diversion to their departure from the Island. He'd gone 'alone' as demanded but Steve hadn't believed any of it. He'd had to follow up on it though. If nothing more, it was a final act of his own desperation. Danny would have been pleased, at least. Backup was overhead and on the main road.

But the location was wrong. The reasoning ... none given. All along, he'd suspected that this final demand might not have been exactly up to par. Too much time had gone by. Steve sensed that the men had been long gone by the time the call had even been placed and he was sure that he was being sent on a wild goose chase. If Danny had been there, he certainly wouldn't be there anymore. And he'd been partially right because there was no one at the abandoned World War II bunker. No one and nothing except a few discarded water bottles and a suspicious looking room which might have been used to cage a man.

Like Danny. Steve remembered standing there. Desolate and alone. He remembered seeing Danny's cuffs hanging by one link which had been closed around a high metal pipe. The link where Danny's wrist had once been attached, hung freely open. It wasn't even swinging anymore. It just hung there. Dead. Silent. Danny had been there and now he was ... gone. Steve's hopes had shattered in that moment until he'd gotten the excited call from the HPD team in the helicopter.

 _"Commander! We've got eyes on a person of interest ... could be Detective Williams ... hard to tell. Guy looks to be in bad shape. Walking ... erratically. Almost 10 klicks inland from your current location ..."_

That's all it had taken. Steve had roared out of there in a cloud of dust. _It was Danny._ He knew it with every fiber of his being. He'd followed the directions provided by that sky-high team, back-tracking and criss-crossing down a confusing grid of what Danny would have called goat paths. It had taken him nearly forty-five additional minutes to get to that person of interest, knowing the entire time that it would be his partner.

When he got there though, slowing on that narrow curve just in time, he was still stunned by the sight in front of him, and it was obvious by his non-reaction, that Danny hadn't expected to see him at all. He'd expected anyone except for Steve and slouch shouldered, completely done in, he was far too resigned to what might happen next.

 _"Danny!"_ Steve had shouted out to him and reached Danny's side just as he'd been on the verge of collapse, knees wobbling, upper body swaying in the heat of the late afternoon sun. He hadn't even bothered to look up. His first faintly whispered words cut Steve to the quick and he'd instantly understood what Danny had meant, too.

 _"Do it."_ Lost, forlorn. Resolved to fate because he was simply that damned exhausted and beaten down. _"Do it"._

"No," Steve muttered spontaneously under his breath, not even hearing the doctor's confused query. That one memory was staying damned strong in his head and he stared numbly at Danny while he slept now.

 _Safe. Peaceful._ A sleep that would bring healing.

But Steve was on edge; his mind fidgety as it played tricks on him. He couldn't stop thinking. Danny had only said a few words since Steve had found him. He'd hardly been aware of anything at all. Even after he'd gotten Danny into his truck Steve had only managed to get a one or two mouthfuls of water down his throat. Danny had been unable to hold the water bottle. He'd finally recognized Steve but had then been incapable of responding to any of his questions. Steve had taken care of the injuries he could see and then radio'd his intentions to meet his team on the main road. He wanted an ambulance waiting.

Heart in his mouth, Steve had focused on driving them out of that remote location, glancing in the back seat after negotiating every axle-breaking pothole to make sure his partner was still there. Still breathing ... still alive. But when pestering Danny with questions and begging for replies were to no avail, his plans had changed. Spurred on by fear, Steve had driven to the nearest passable spot where the chopper could land.

That decision to transfer him from the truck to the helicopter most likely had saved Danny's life.

Nothing had gone right for Steve in three very long days and he'd been determined to correct each and ever single one of those setbacks. Because, from the time Danny had stopped on the way to work to lend a hand at a simple fender bender of a car accident, it had all gone to hell in a handbasket.

First, the woman, whose car had been gently rear-ended at a stop sign, couldn't tell him a blessed thing about the men, nor their large vehicle which had bumped her from behind. The truck was _"… a big, dark SUV." And the occupants? Nothing at all about the three men " … who'd forced the cop into their truck after asking him to choose ... between me … and him"._

Steve hadn't known what to do with that information. It still boggled his mind that the woman had been of no help whatsoever. When at his nastiest, he even wondered if the woman had managed to count to three correctly.

Secondly, none of it made sense. At the time, there had been no known 'why' of it ... zero understanding of what had happened. Only the woman's distraught account of what Danny had done. How he'd brazenly volunteered himself to go alone with them. She'd been sobbing openly about him and how " _... He just stepped in front of me ... insisted that they take him ... that by taking him, they'd have more … more leverage. That was the word he used - yes, he said leverage. So ... so they did!"_

Steve's snit had started growing way back then yet. The woman's sobbing hadn't made him empathetic at all. Even now he frowned at the memory as he stared at Danny's lax face, the bruises blending with the uneven sunburn across his cheeks. Of course, Danny would have done something like that. Steve could have easily imagined hearing Danny's words inside his own head. He hadn't needed a sobbing woman to recite them. What he'd needed at the time was detailed descriptions of the men, their names (and hell, he'd take just a first name to get started), a hint at a license plate number, their general direction of travel. Anything more than what he'd been given!

But at the time, he'd had nothing to go on. They'd all been baffled as to why these men had taken Danny because the accident had really been just that. An accident. They hadn't set a trap for Danny. They hadn't been lying in wait just for him … or for some other cop to just show up. The driver of the truck truly hadn't been paying attention. They hadn't intended to rear end the woman's car or have a plainclothes detective show up as a good Samaritan to help.

None of that had been intentional and yet … Danny had been taken. Steve learned hours later, that these men had taken that minor accident and spun it into one hell of an opportunity.

What Steve learned far too late, was that the men were part of a small and rather disjointed weapons cartel. They'd arrived on the Island that very morning for a meet and greet with local members of the Yakuza to setup a lucrative weapons exchange. Their first step in what they'd hoped to be a long-term relationship in a new market.

All of this intel had come after the fact though.

 _After_ , the arms exchange had been coordinated and the Yakuza had left the meet.

 _After_ , that suspicious activity had been called in by an anonymous citizen and only _after_ , two members of the visiting cartel had been hemmed in by HPD.

 _After_ , a negotiator had been called in to help with what had become a hostage situation.

Only then, far too late, had Steve learned the truth and that almost seemed by accident. Forced to rally the team, gear up en masse despite Danny being missing, it was there that he'd been made aware of the inherent value of the faction's single hostage.

Steve had been mortified when one man had so nonchalantly tossed him Danny's badge. _Furious_ when the lead HPD officer and the assigned negotiator were as ignorant as hell about how to correctly defuse the situation. With Danny's life in the balance, Steve had taken over the proceedings at that point, demanding and receiving proof of life ... via a burner cell phone device. He'd been stupefied by that knowledge.

He wasn't there? All that _talking_ \- all of that lost time _negotiating_ \- and _Danny hadn't even been there?_

The subsequent demands were predictable: the faction wanted their two men back and then safe egress in exchange for the Five-0 detective. Something Steve was ready to do until he was put in a bind because Danny wasn't physically nearby. He had already been moved to some private enclave on the opposite side of the Island. So, he had one clear choice at that point: let the two men go and come up with a plan B before they could get off the Island and _not_ make good on their black promise to release their hostage.

Backed into a corner, he'd done just that, too. But there had been no Plan B or even a C; he'd been thwarted at every turn. Their new Yakuza business partners were keen on their well-being and the three men quite capable besides. With each lost hour spelling eventual disaster, Steve's walls had begun to cave in around him.

The Governor was irate for the horrific handling of the situation; the police commissioner at war with Five-0 for the lay of blame. With no options left, Steve had gone to the street, pulling out every favor ever owed to them. He'd gotten nowhere and hopes were slowly scattering to the wind. But then, against all those terrible odds, some miracle had occurred: they'd gotten a phone call. An anonymous tip.

"No more," Steve muttered out loud. He angrily slapped the footboard to Danny's hospital bed, his eyes still focused on Danny's face as he relived those frustrating moments. "No more talking ... no more damned lies."

"Excuse me?" Commander?" The doctor's annoyed tone finally seeped through Steve's distracted thoughts. "What did you say? Maybe we should discuss Detective Williams' recovery later. Is that what you want?"

"What? No." Steve blinked stupidly at the man before asking the one and only question that mattered. "Is he going to be all right?"

The doctor, and God help him, Steve just couldn't remember the man's name, seemed confused. But then he nodded, his resultant sigh fraught with resignation.

"Yes, Commander," the doctor said much more simply. "Exhaustion, dehydration, various cuts and bruises … the fractured ankle is the worst of it. He needs rest and a decent meal, but Detective Williams is gong to be fine."

"Ankle? What?" Steve knew that he sounded ridiculous, yet he couldn't help himself. "Fractured? He was walking on it ... I mean, yeah, I noticed something was wrong and he was favoring it, but ... fractured? Thought maybe only sprained."

"Not sprained," the doctor said, his wry tone indicating that he'd repeated that particular fact more than once before. "Yes, I'm sure it was very painful, but he could manage walking. When the fracture happened ... and I'm sure the Detective can tell us how it happened when he finally wakes ... it was most likely incurred from a severe twisting motion." The doctor mimicked that counter twisting motion with both his hands to demonstrate and Steve noticeably blanched.

"So, his foot twisted as such and the contraction of his tendon pulled his foot in one direction. But the way it was twisted, it actually pulls the foot in the opposite direction and a piece of the tendon tore, taking a small part of bone with it. And that ... _that_ is where the fracture occurred. Painful ... but straight forward enough. He'll need rest, ice and possibly a boot for stability; but he'll be fine in a few weeks."

"Okay," Steve replied, stupefied and his brain still not quite on board with what he'd been told. Until one key thing sank in. _Everything was okay._ Danny was back and going to be fine. A bit worse for wear, but they had Danny back and all Steve wanted to do was watch him sleep.

"Commander, if I may," the doctor noted. "When is the last time you got off your feet?"

Dumbfounded, Steve continued staring but this time at the doctor. It was as if he was seeing the man for the very first time. "What? Why?"

"Because you look the way I feel." Danny's tired voice resonated up from the bed and Steve's head swiveled back towards Danny with a snap. "You look like crap ... why are you staring at me? Can't you let a man sleep?"

"You're awake,' Steve said. A smile slowly crept across his face.

"Yeah, I think so ... didn't hurt this bad before," Danny breathed out softly. . "... when I was _sleeping_. Why're you here, _huh_? You look awful, Steve. Go home."

Steve grinned at the light hearted snark. He looked at the doctor and then pointed dramatically towards Danny. "He's awake!"

"Yes, so I see," the doctor drawled. He made a sniffing sound, aggrieved, and then shook his head before looking at his patient. "How do you feel Detective?"

"Getting hit by a truck wouldn't hurt this much," Danny pouted. But then he yawned, blinking wildly, fighting his eyes which insisted on closing. Finally, with supreme effort, Danny compromised by squinting with one eye up at Steve.

"You okay?" Steve asked in all seriousness. Suddenly, even with Danny now looking directly at him, he didn't feel like smiling anymore. Steve had been run through the mill and back again, and a very large part of him was still refusing to believe that things were all right. That Danny was going to be fine.

"Really? _Really_ ... okay?"

"Yeah." Danny nodded, his lips pursed thinly as he studied Steve's face with as fierce of an intensity as he could muster. His voice fell to a whisper and he nodded again, almost reassuringly as if he'd seen something of importance in Steve's eyes.

"Yeah ... really. I mean it. Thanks, Steve."

One side of Steve's mouth quirked back upwards again. He opened his mouth and then didn't know what he should say. That simple sentiment carried a great amount of weight. It countered the soul-crushing burden that Steve had been carrying on his own shoulders for three very long days and he visibly deflated ... in relief.

"Go home," Danny murmured softly. "M'fine. Really." Steve watched as his friend's eyes started to slide shut again. They wouldn't be opening for a very long time. Danny was going to be out for the count for good ... and this time, it felt very, very right.

Heaving in a great lungful of air, Steve let out a long, cleansing sigh. He smiled as he stood to his full height, just watching Danny sleep before whispering some heart-felt words of his own.

"You're welcome, Danno."

 _ **~ End ~**_


	23. Chapter 23 - Platitude

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** *sigh* breakfast muse strikes un-announced ...please be warned that this is a very delicate subject matter.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Word of the Day: P** **latitude - _a flat, dull, or trite remark, especially one uttered as if it were fresh or profound._**

"Where did he go? Where is he?!" The blond detective shouted and then was already off and running before the Honolulu Police Officer's gesture completed its flow towards the shady leeward side of the long concrete building.

"Steve!" Danny was running flat out now, his eyes on the dark bowed head, the heaving chest and messy line of spittle his friend was shakily trying to dab from his lips.

No one was with him. _Why wasn't anyone with him?_

Danny was both relieved and furious about Steve being alone all at the same time. Relieved twofold because he could easily imagine what Steve was going through at that very moment. He preferred to be alone with his partner so he could manage what had happened just between the two of them. Privately. Plus, Steve would want to be left alone ... he might not even want Danny there right then, but that was just going to be too bad. It was one decision which Danny wasn't going to allow his partner to own yet.

Still, someone should have been with him. Making sure he was generally all right until Danny had time to get there from his vantage point on the opposite side of the building, showing him some semblance of care ... some damned empathy.

"Steve! Steven!" Danny's voice fell from a shout down to a stage whisper as he closed the distance to his friend's side. Without hesitating, he gently pulled Steve's gun from his fingers, thumbed on the safety and shoved the weapon into the back of his pants. He grimaced at the sour odor of vomit knowingly as he wrapped one arm around Steve's shoulders and guided him farther away from the noise and chaos; farther down along the wall, not only to gain more shade, but privacy.

"Hey," Danny whispered softly. "Things are going to be okay. Listen to me ... she's okay. You're going to be okay, too. Just let me handle this, all right?"

He wasn't going to waste time with senseless platitudes. He knew better and he knew that Steve also knew better. Nothing at that very moment was going to be comforting enough except to be there for him. To make sure that Steve understood that the little girl was okay. Right then, Danny needed to keep things private and predictable until the shit hit the proverbial fan. There was little doubt that would happen. There would be an inquiry. There would be media and far too much attention. But right then, Steve needed to get himself together so that he could cope with the formalities and bullshit later. Until then, Danny was bound and determined to play gatekeeper. Guardian. Whatever the hell he needed to be in order to run interference until Steve was ready - if he ever could be ready. More like ... accepting.

"Sit down," Danny insisted as he guided Steve into a sitting position with his back against the wall. "Breathe ... in ... out. Try to calm down, babe."

Steve collapsed almost bonelessly, pliable to Danny gently pushing his head between his drawn up knees as he gasped and choked back more of the gorge that was blocking his throat.

They were far away from the bulk of the ongoing activity. HPD had the perp in custody. Two ambulances were on site, with two more en route just in case they were needed. Parents had arrived and children were being reunited with them. _All of them._ Safe ... sound ... a little scared, but fine.

Danny's eyes roamed the hectic school yard scene as he sat down flush against Steve's side, his arm still around his friend's shoulders, pulling him close. Even if Steve didn't think so quite yet, he needed the contact on some level. Danny had been there at one time or another and he knew. Ex-SEAL or not, military or not, this kind of thing simply wasn't easy to swallow even if it did flaunt a happy ending.

"It's just us," Danny soothed as Steve quaked under his arm. "Just us."

No one was looking at them or for them just yet. He had time and he'd take advantage of every single second. But then, he noticed the rest of his team and a relieved grin twisted his lips. Though loose in construction, Kono, Chin and Lou had setup a perimeter of sorts along the grassy lawn. Covert glances were being sent his way from each and Danny nodded his thanks and understanding in turn. While not overtly obvious, no one would be approaching him or Steve until the go-ahead was discreetly communicated. He technically had all the time in the world.

"S-she's okay?" Steve choked out. "I ..I d-didn't ...?" He couldn't continue speaking as he forced his head up to meet Danny's eyes, his cheeks splotchy with color, his face lined with sweat.

"Yeah, she is. Not a scratch," Danny said calmly. "She's getting checked out by the EMT's and her parents are here. She's fine ... a little upset, but fine."

"I could've k-killed h-her," Steve said, eyes wide.

"But you didn't," Danny replied steadily. "You didn't." He met Steve's gaze head on, making sure that everything he said was absolutely, clearly understood.

"H-how upset?" Steve's voice shook uncontrollably despite his attempts to stop its vibration. He stammered and choked back a dry heave. His eyes closed when his face twisted in a deep emotional pain and Danny found himself automatically shushing him while pulling him even closer into his side.

"Upset ... scared. Just like anyone would be," Danny said reasonably. "Kono confirmed that she didn't see anything either. You hear me on that? She didn't _see_ anything ... and that's real important. The noise scared her - the situation scared her. But she didn't actually see anything and she's going to be absolutely fine, okay?"

"A-and I d-didn't s-shoot her?" Steve asked with an uncharacteristic desperation. His eyes were back open again and he was searching Danny's face for the truth. His hands were clenching and unclenching with a spasmodic fervor. And in desperation, Danny grabbed his right hand, wending their gloved fingers together.

"No, you didn't shoot her, Steve," Danny replied with a fierce intensity. "Calm down and _breathe_ ... this was as scary as shit and you're okay. _She's okay._ _Everyone_ is okay, do you hear me? The perp is in custody and ... you did good. She never would have gotten out of there alive if you didn't do what you did. You _had_ to ... and while it was close ... no lie there, it _was_ close ... it was the only option and you did _not_ shoot her. Promise."

Steve's entire body was shaking now, vibrating from head to toe and Danny was beginning to fear a shock that would require some medical intervention. Adrenaline dump or not, Steve was shaking like a leaf and Danny couldn't seem to anchor him even braced against his own body.

"Breathe you goof ... don't make me take you to the hospital. You don't want that," Danny whispered quietly. "It's over."

"C-could h-have been ... G-Grace," Steve muttered brokenly.

"Steve ...," Danny started to speak, a bit surprised where Steve's brain had just gone. But it made sense now didn't it? Children had slowly eked into the stoic ex-SEAL's universe and he had a brand new sense of awareness. Grace, Charlie, his little niece Joan, and now Sara with Chin. Danny chuffed a kind, knowing sound as he kept up with where Steve's brain was going. Parent or not, it made sense because Danny's had gone there the moment the call had come through.

"O-or ... C-Charlie ..." Steve interrupted him. " God, Danny ... it could have been one of them."

"Could have been," Danny whispered softly in unhappy agreement. "You're right." He didn't wish what had nearly happened on any single parent or child, so he had nothing more to say about it. What Steve was worried about was an unfortunate truth. It could have been any school or any teacher ... or any child or any family... including his own.

"But, you know what ..." Danny was still whispering, tears now shining in his eyes as he pulled Steve even closer. "If it had been ... I'd want you there ... and I'd need to know that you'd do exactly what you did this morning. Honest to God, that's the truth."

Steve's head wobbled on his neck as he focused on Danny's face as if to really weigh that truth. He finally nodded, a lone tear breaking loose to trace down one side of his face. He squeezed Danny's fingers and then began to move, ungainly as hell.

"What are you doing?" Danny blurted out as Steve suddenly struggled to get to his feet, tugging him up with him. "Whoa! Take some time to settle! Wait a minute ...Steve!"

"No, c-can we get o-out of h-here?" Steve asked. "Even if it's just an h-hour or two. Please ... Danno. I n-need the space." He was still breathing hard and shaky as hell, but Danny nodded as he slung Steve's arm over his shoulder.

"We can ... and I can handle everything else that I need to later," Danny replied evenly. "I'll take you home ... for an hour or two."

Danny looked up into Steve's face, gauging his friend's response as he took in the volume of activity still going on at the front of the school. While the situation was far from really being over, it was controlled and much of the chaos had dwindled to a manageable roar of sorts. As Danny watched him, Steve swallowed hard, his eyes still shining as he surveyed the scene they would need to literally walk though in order to get to their car. He seemed to be practically counting heads as if to reassure himself everyone was where they should be.

"You good?" Danny asked. Inhaling deeply to settle frayed nerves, Steve nodded and began to walk, making no effort to shake off Danny's grip.

Kono saw them first and raised an eyebrow quizzically Steve's way and Danny provided her with a sketchy grin. He nodded towards the Camaro and she tapped her comm link to say a few words. As if by magic then, a narrow swath opened up for them, free of potential obstacles - human or otherwise - straight to the waiting car.

Still, it happened just as Danny was opening the passenger side door. He groaned inwardly as a stranger's voice broke their private moment of solitude.

"Are you the one? Hey? Excuse me, is he the one?" Danny turned protectively, inserting himself directly between Steve and this man he didn't know.

Face clouded, Danny stood his ground, measuring the intruder's intentions, recognizing that Chin and Kono were both on their way over to lend their hands. Knowing the man had to be a parent, but on guard in case he needed to edit whatever it was he might want.

"Can I help you?" Danny asked, doing his very best to not sound as annoyed as he felt. Wishing to the heavens that he'd gotten Steve in the passenger seat before this person had managed to approach them.

But before he could say another word, Steve was by his shoulder. "Yeah," Steve choked out. "It was me ... what ... "

Danny helplessly shook his head at Steve's assumption. He wanted to curse and had to restrain himself from roughly pushing Steve back behind him, but the man's hand was already between them.

"Thank you then," the man blurted. His face was suddenly earnest, genuinely open. Tears sparkled in his eyes as he took Steve's hand in his own, forcing him to stumble closer.

"Amanda ... she's fine. She's great ... from what I hear, she might not have been. So, yeah ... thank you."

"W-what?" Steve's mouth gaped open wide and Danny grinned in abject relief. He waited then, looking from Amanda's father to Steve's semi-stricken face. There was no doubt that the girl's father could feel Steve's hand shaking so very badly either. In fact, he had yet to release his thankful grip. If anything, that realization made his purpose even more meaningful and Danny wanted to hug the man when he glanced his way, distressed as hell ... but aware. He cocked his head then back towards Steve as if understanding.

" _Really_ ," Amanda's father stated emphatically. "Thank you. My wife and I ... we appreciate everything that you managed to do. I need to get back to them now. But ... we can't thank you enough."

And then he was gone, jogging back to the ambulance to see his daughter. Leaving both Danny and Steve standing where they were, the latter now weak in the knees for an entirely new reason.

"Sit down before you fall down," Danny mumbled, failing at stifling at least half of his grin. "Let's go home for a bit, huh?" He didn't trust his own voice anymore. Both of them were beyond emotional.

"Steve? Please ... get in the car," Danny prodded more as Steve kept staring after Amanda's father. He could only be relieved when Steve finally folded his long legs into the Camaro's passenger seat. He then jogged round to the driver's side, slowly driving away, his sole destination to Steve's house so he could help his friend calmly regain his center. Something which might be a heck of a lot easier now.

"Her name is Amanda," Steve said as they drove along. His voice sounded rough. He was slouched in the seat and sweat still dotted his face. But he was far less pale and when Danny chanced a glance, he might even have been trying to smile even if his hands were still shaking.

"Her name is Amanda ... and she's okay."

"Amanda. Yup, pretty name. And, she's fine ...," Danny noted before saying the only real thing he could really add at that point. "Thanks to you."

 _ **~ END ~.**_


	24. Chapter 24 - Cacophony

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Just a word and an idea ... and a breakfast muse.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 **Word of the Day: Cacophony** - _harsh or jarring sound._

 _"Gethimupankeephimasflataspossibleeasygoslowonmycountdonjostleim."_

A slur of words from multiple voices assaulted his ears. They merged together and fluctuated in tone, some things he could pick out, others indistinguishable. There was nothing that he understood. He felt a momentary pang of panic as he was touched, hands were wedged under his back, his legs, and then his neck held steady. He couldn't stop shivering. Yet, he couldn't move and his sense of panic began to increase when his hearing tunneled out. But the brief loss of that sense was replaced by intense sensation and his brow knit in bewilderment.

One side of his body felt hot. Heat actually … waves of it flowed distressingly close and it was then, Danny registered the odd cracks, hisses and pops. That was bad and he should know what it meant, but he couldn't move or force his brain to provide an immediate answer. Stranded on his back, he lay there as too many diverse sounds ebbed and flowed to conflict with what he thought he was feeling. It both mattered and then … didn't. With his brain refusing to get on board, he was helpless to everything around him. Yet, when his breath hitched painfully when one of those waves of stifling heat floated over his face bringing with it, a heavy chemical odor, some quiet voice inside him begged attention with a simple word.

 _Bad._

Danny gagged thickly, his stomach twisting as his sinuses were consumed by the acidic smell. His face contorted in distress. He _knew_ what it was but his brain was far too slow to know more than that he was in trouble even when that inner voice clicked in to over-ride the fugue again.

 _Badbadbadbad._

He moaned deeply, his fingers twitching. What had happened? Where was he … those voices, they only droned on but didn't provide him with any answers. His fingers twitched again, scrabbling across the filth of a wooden floor. His muscles tensed and trembled, his booted heel scotched uselessly when he tried to find traction.

 _"Nononononoeasydannoeasyeasyrelaxmhere."_

A string of sound transformed into a slurry of words. His brain paused, tried to kick-start and that fear of the unknown left him as quickly as it had come. _"Slowlynow!"_ One voice broke through the rest and finally Danny knew who it was. He knew who the others were and he calmed his frail hold on sanity.

 _Steve's voice. Steve. His team_... arguing. Desperate? Over him ... about him? _Why_ ...? Danny tried to move his head and was prevented by the firm hold which Steve maintained on his head, his neck. His broad hands splayed protectively. Yet, Steve's thumb briefly eased over Danny's temple, the touch soothing in its simplicity.

Words again. _"DannoDontmovedontmovedontmove."_

But he wanted to move - needed to move as those hisses and pops drew closer.

 _"Wehavenochoicecantwait."_ The effort was monumental, but Danny focused on the overly calm drone, if not the meaning of what the words meant. The familiar drone allowed him to finally pick out the individual words. Identify Chin, Kono ... maybe Lou. But then, he still didn't know what any of it meant.

 _"Okay, ready? On three people … one, two … three. Easy, easy … keep him flat."_

 _Steve's voice_ in his ear. Just over his head … _at his head_. Strong hands, resolute, gently encased his neck. Hands which were wearing leather gloves, covering fingers which were warm and strong.

 _Steve_. Of course, Steve would be there taking charge … _of course_.

Danny heard a gurgling noise, briefly astonished to realize he'd made the sound deep in his throat just as he felt himself being lifted, the motion nauseatingly dizzy and that gurgle became a low moan. He coughed, then realized Steve was also coughing. Others were _coughing_ , gagging and choking against the smoke, odor and heat which had gotten worse.

 _Badbadbad._ Why were they there? No one should be _there_ and he moaned again, his body stiffening, faintly arguing being moved. And Steve had said _not_ to move ... yet ... ? Confused, afraid, Danny twitched. His hands weakly flailed and a leg kicked out. His already crazy world tilted and voices merged into a cacophony.

 _"Hold him!"_

 _"No! No ... he's slipping!"_

Then Steve's voice, at his head, whispering urgently. _"Easy, Danno. I got you, buddy. I got you ...let me do the work. Don't move."_

Danny heard Steve again and obeyed then, allowing his body to be toted along. But mentally frowning because he couldn't see him. He couldn't …. _whywhywhy? .._..because his eyes were closed.

 _His eyes were closed._ How did that happen? When? The thoughts running through his mind were slow and murky; his entire body feeling sluggish. Every faint twitch he made brought with it hushed desperate commands to relax. Something was wrong and yet he didn't feel anything; not really. On some distant level, he knew that not feeling anything in that moment was undoubtedly a blessing. Danny knew he was hurt; what he didn't know or even remember ...yet … was how or why.

He groaned as he was jostled from every angle. Despite their care, it couldn't be helped. Apologies were whispered around choked out orders not aimed at him. He groaned again when the atmosphere changed and the brightness of the sun pierced through his closed lids, its heat not nearly as bad as the fire within the building. The change was dramatic: the flash of bright sunlight, a wave of incredibly clean air free of noxious smoke.

More sound ... sirens, new voices, shouts and ... all of this new cacophony was far too much to take in.

 _"Pushthegurneyunderhimdownsamewaynicenslow."_ New voices. New demands and an entirely new din of sound.

Danny moaned as he was lowered just a few inches to a softer surface. The strength of those familiar hands left him, replaced by the unyielding shape of a cervical collar. His face creased in distress as an oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth. Once more, his mind deserted him as an assault of a new kind began.

 **H5O* H5O**

A thumb rubbed circles over his left temple, just above the strap to the oxygen mask, steadily. Repetitively. Up, down, round. The same sequence, barely a pause at all. His eyes were still closed. In fact, he was sure now that they'd never opened since the explosion. Since the fire in the low rise downtown... he knew what had happened now. At least, he had mostly reasoned it because there was a lot he simply didn't remember and might not ever remember.

Those gaps would be filled in later. Right then though? It didn't matter. Time, didn't matter.

He knew where he was; _finally_. Queens Medical. Intensive Care. The murmur of voices had slowly eked into his small circle of being loud enough, insistent enough, for Danny to understand. The astringent smells helped that along, too. The sounds of a hospital ward. Those things were unhappily familiar. He took some comfort in knowing all of that now because much of the confusion was slowly leaving his mind. He was slowly coming back into himself and could think again. _Feel_ again.

And regaining that sense of feeling was both good and bad.

Danny drew in a small breath, the pure oxygen only slightly easing that need to cough. His chest tightened a second later and he gagged, the resulting cough sharp and painful. A sharp knife-like feeling centered through his chest. It _hurt_. He tried to move his hand and failed. Then his head, and a flare of worry spiked when he felt the restrictive collar around his neck.

In desperation, he focused on that hand - that thumb on his forehead - the circular motion. The words of reassurance being whispered right by his side.

That soothing touch meant Steve was there. The soft words he heard were being uttered by his friend and Danny believed them. The panic left him and that overwhelming sense of desperation went along with it. Danny mouthed Steve's name ... then attempted to ask the simplest of questions. But he had no voice. No energy. His throat hurt and he had nothing at all except that hand ... Steve's presence.

 _"Shhh. You're going to be okay. Rest ... sleep ... I'm here."_

Steve was still there and Danny was positive now that he'd actually never left and the man probably wouldn't leave until Danny rediscovered the wherewithal to at least open his damned eyes. But he just couldn't manage it quite yet and so, he focused on that thumb and its soothing pattern. He needed that touch right then like he needed the sustaining warmth of the oxygen circulating around his nose and mouth from the oxygen mask.

Up, down, round. The same over and over again. No need to count its rotations. No need to worry if it might stop - it wouldn't.

No need at all to worry if Steve might give up on him and leave. He _wouldn't_ \- pure fact.

 _"Rest ... sleep, Danny."_

He focused on that touch and listened to what Steve whispered to him so softly by his side and Danny allowed himself to sleep.

 **~ End. ~**


	25. Chapter 25 - Part 2 to Cacophony

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _So it took some time, but here's Steve's POV. The muse hadn't quite found the right thing for the longest time. I hope this delivers because sometimes a delay like this winds up feeling disconnected. The usual caveats apply: not a doctor. Not beta'd. Didn't quite bother to research much of anything at all medically speaking ... etc. All for fun!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day:** Judgement- the ability to make considered decisions or come to sensible conclusions; an opinion or conclusion; a decision of a court or judge; a misfortune or calamity viewed as a divine punishment._

 **Part 2: to Cacophony**

Steve watched, eyes wide, pacing worriedly back and forth as the EMT's readied Danny for transport. Backboard, neck brace, oxygen mask ... hell, they'd done just about the whole nine yards in less time than it had taken Steve and the rest of his team to carry Danny out of the remains of the building. The EMTs were intent on Danny's care. Hyper-vigilant about his breathing and his struggling vitals.

"Come on, come on," Steve coughed the words out as he watched the huddle over his partner's body. He coughed again, each of his shallow inhales daring to rattle a bit inside his chest. An EMT glanced his way and he shook his head to negate any need of care, his gaze authoritatively aimed at his downed partner. The man didn't agree, but he nodded in understanding; looked away, his focus once more on Danny. At least for the moment.

 _Too long._ They'd taken way too long to get Danny out. And the chance they'd taken in moving him by only using their hands? Without any of the right tools at their disposal? Nothing at all? His entire team had balked at first. He'd been adamant though.

Now, Steve glanced down at his gloved fingers in dismay not knowing what to think about the potential aftermath of his orders. At war with himself for what he'd taken responsibility for doing.

 _Using his own hands to stabilize Danny's head and neck the entire way?_ What the hell had he been thinking? Just suppose ...

"Damn it," he rasped out as he scrubbed hard at his face against that next terrible thought, wiping away sweat and smearing smudged lines of soot down his cheeks. Danny had been out of it but not wholly unconscious. He'd been confused, in pain. As they'd begun to lift him, he'd tried to struggle and Steve had nearly lost his fragile hold on Danny's neck. Then Lou had tripped over debris, cursing in alarm over the bad stumble and yet managing through some divine bit of luck to keep his own grip steady.

Steve had doubts now though. As he watched the dire scene continue to play out in front of him, insisting that he'd done the best he could based on the circumstances dealt him, was giving Steve far too little comfort.

The EMTs hummed indecipherable words amongst themselves. Quiet demands were made. Numbers were called out; odd, silent orders were somehow given and shared. The team was just as good as his own when it came to the fluid ability to work as one. They were in tune with each other within their specialized world. But Steve's world had been turned upside down and he'd found himself helpless to do more than make what could become a very bad decision. He'd been rushed into a singular option that he hadn't wanted to make. And again that terrible thought leaked into the forefront of his mind. Just suppose his orders hurt Danny more? Caused some horrific level of yet unseen damage? Throughout their escape from the damaged building, Steve had only whispered a litany of reassurances into Danny's ear as best as he could. Things he'd certainly meant. None of what he'd whispered so urgently had been thoughtless or untrue.

Yet what the hell good would any of that really do? It was stupid ... stupid and maybe even reckless.

No one was doing that kindness for Steve now either. Other than that one studious glance about his own needs, he was being ignored and in all actuality? That was fine with him because he sure as hell wasn't the priority.

Steve's face twisted unhappily as a low moan reached his ears. Barely a second later, a wet-sounding muffled cough made him visibly wince. Though unconscious, Danny was still coughing heavily, the rattle in his lungs already a problematic wheeze. Like Steve and the rest of his team, Danny had similar dark sooty marks around his nose and mouth from smoke inhalation.

 _Too long._ They'd taken way too long to get him out. Going round and round inside his head, Steve brutally lambasted himself for all of his recent decisions. He cursed under his breath, the simple sound irritating his own lungs and spurring on a heavier coughing spasm. He spat a thick wad of phlegm to the ground and wiped at his lips. Through a reactive spate of tears as he argued another spasm, he glared at Danny's hand, and then his fingers. Lastly, his foot, willing something to just twitch. But Danny was limp. Pliable. Except for coughing and the erratic heave of his chest, he wasn't moving at all.

 _Why wasn't he moving?_ Danny was always moving. _Always_. He was a bundle of nerves, high energy, and constant motion. What Steve was seeing now was incomprehensible and potentially his fault.

Why the hell hadn't he taken a few seconds to look for a plank of wood to keep Danny flat? A damaged door... anything? Surely there had to have been something that might have made due as a litter to better keep Danny as flat as possible? But Steve remembered looking around and having seen nothing. He'd had no choice in the end. Heat and smoke - the race against a fast moving fire - had made the decision for him. The building had been, and still was, an inferno. There'd soon be nothing left of it at all.

"Come on," Steve rasped out as the EMTs continued their triage, needing to cough again from the bitter hitch in his own throat. With anger in his eyes, he waved off that same EMT who bravely stood tall by the gurney to pointedly stare his way. His professional needs to also care for Steve as a patient were on the rise; his eyes intent and his posture more determined to battle Steve's iron will. Steve's lips adopted a firm line and he stood just as tall, nonplussed when the uniformed man literally dared to poke a meaningful finger in his direction.

Even from afar, a judgement had been made against him and he was next. Come hell or high water ... Steve was next on that man's short list.

Steve's expression darkened and he ignored the EMT's meaning, his thoughts far too many places at once as he glanced at his watch surprised that time had barely budged. He frowned then, automatically making a mental reconnaissance of the chaotic scene. Lou was nearby, partnered with the HPD contingent. The firemen were well entrenched in battling the blaze.

 _Chin? Kono?_

For a long time, he couldn't find either of them and Steve paused, searching frantically amongst the rapidly moving figures for his two remaining team members. His eyes flickered over to the second ambulance, registering the arrival of a third and already resolutely determined that this third not be for him. Then he saw them. Chin was at the second ambulance, hovering by his cousin. Sitting on the rear bumper, a medic was catering to Kono's apparently broken arm. Another was taking her vitals as she sucked in lungful after lungful of oxygen. She coughed, gagged and sputtered, Chin by her side.

Chin looked up as if sensing Steve's focus and provided him with a simple thumb's up signal and Steve sighed in relief. She'd be all right. Though coughing, Chin was also fine.

With all of his team once more accounted for, Steve's attention refocused back on Danny where the EMT's were stalled over him, the stretcher still just about ready to be loaded into the ambulance.

"What the hell is going on?" Steve complained under his breath. Seconds seemed like hours to him when all of a sudden something changed and the medical team was moving. Nearly taken off-guard, Steve surged forward practically lunging into the rear of the ambulance on their heels.

"How's he doing? We had to ...," Steve asked as the door slammed closed and the bus started moving. " _I_ had to move him ... _dammit_."

He sat there then helpless to do anything more but continue to watch and wait. "I _had_ to move him," Steve whispered softly to himself. He curled his fingers through his filthy hair known that he carried the heavy odor of smoke with him. It was in his clothes, his hair and stuck in his sinuses. He could even taste it with each throaty cough. And all of that should only have made his decision to move Danny all the more valid. Yet those facts were doing little to soothe his mind as his eyes focused on the cervical collar wrapped around Danny's neck.

"Here," a voice demanded in his ear as an oxygen mask was forcibly placed over his nose and mouth. "Don't take it off ... breathe."

"I'm fine," Steve complained as that same medic stared unyieldingly into his face, his hand firmly on the oxygen mask until Steve managed to nod. He gave in then, holding the mask himself, agreeing to keep it in place.

"We're getting him more stabilized," the medic said about Danny as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Steve's upper arm. "You though? I'm not sure how the hell you're on your feet ... and you're not going to be good to anybody if you keel over now."

Steve nodded again, his eyes briefly closing as he momentarily relinquished control to the EMT. He felt sick, nauseous; his chest felt as if a rubber-band was wrapped too tightly around it. He breathed in, then out as he'd been told. Slowly. Methodically. The oxygen alone was already making a big difference in how he was feeling and the man was right: if he didn't take care of his own needs, he'd be good for nothing and for nobody.

"What happened in there?" The EMT asked quietly.

"Gas leak," Steve whispered, his voice cracking from smoke and strain. "At least, that's what we think."

He shook his head helplessly. His team had been tracking down a lead on a homicide case and what had happened that morning had nothing to do with them. It was an accident or maybe even related to some negligent fault of a hasty construction crew, but it had zero to do with them. Nothing at all to do with their investigation or why they'd been there in the first place. It was ironic really. A simple case of bad timing and being at the wrong place.

Rocking in time to the speeding ambulance, Steve knuckled the space between his eyes, wincing at the pain he caused himself. He blinked his eyes open, his vision taking a few seconds to re-focus. Danny's forehead seemed permanently furrowed in distress and pain. However, he still wasn't moving. Blood trickled from his left ear, more drifted sluggishly from his nose under the oxygen mask.

A surge of fear twisted Steve's gut and he fell mute. Helpless to do more than continually punish himself for what might be, he sat motionless on the small bench in the ambulance.

 **H5O* H5O**

Hours later, Steve stood hunched over Danny's hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit at Queens. He didn't have much time before he was shooed back to his own room, the threat of poor oxygen sats looming dangerously over his head. Like most of his team, smoke inhalation was his biggest woe. In addition to that though, he was sore and painfully stiff from a myriad of scrapes, bruises and lacerations he hadn't even known about.

Most of his team were now temporary residents of Queens. Kono had her arm set and was resting nearby. Chin had fared the same as he, needing to stay over to monitor a set of iffy vitals.

Only Lou had gotten off the easiest of them all, lucky to have been released to go home after a once-over.

Steve sniffed a pensive sound under his breath as he looked down at Danny and promptly failed at stifling a heavy cough. Danny had been cleaned up and the traces of dirt, soot and blood were now gone. His face was scraped and bruised, barely visible under a restrictive oxygen mask. Despite being unconscious, he looked uncomfortable in the cervical collar he'd be required to wear for a few more hours.

But other than severe muscular strain, the doctors had found nothing wrong with Danny's neck or spine. Adding insult to smoke inhalation, he had a concussion and more than a few contusions, too. However, he would be fine with proper pain management and time. Nonetheless, Danny had yet to regain a full state of consciousness. He remained in a half-twilight state brought on by injury and medication.

Steve blamed himself even though the doctors had reassured him that he hadn't done anything wrong. Even Lou had said the same after recounting the state of the building and the fire marshall's confirmation of the gas leak. The thing had been a ticking time-bomb and they'd had no choice. So yes, Steve had done the right thing and yet, he still didn't feel blame-free. That dangerous sense of knowing what his decision might have caused still lurked inside his head. That damned _'what if'_ refused to let him go completely.

"We all got out," Steve whispered hoarsely as Danny's face crinkled in blind confusion and a flux of pain. "Hey, hey ... you're okay. Just breathe through it, Danno."

Instead of hearing him, Danny moaned and gave out with a ragged cough, the sounds muffled by the oxygen mask. His fingers clenched and then loosened in the bedding, another moan echoing softly as he failed at moving his head.

Daring to smile gently, Steve felt a flare of relief by seeing these weak movements which further compounded the fact that Danny would be fine ... that he was rousing and slowly coming back to center.

"Take it easy ... breathe, buddy," Steve murmured. He was relieved but not wholly satisfied. As he beat himself up for what could have happened despite hearing the doctors' reassurances, Steve found himself wanting more and more. Until Danny opened his eyes and looked at him, Steve could only guess at his partner's discomfort. He could only assume - believe the doctors - that Danny would truly be okay until Danny opened his mouth to lob some sort of sarcastic comment at him, a hand flailing wildly in his direction.

" _Shhh_. You're going to be okay. Rest ... sleep ... I'm here," Steve said as Danny's face twisted again. The confusion and his damnable feeling of claustrophobia that the combined use of oxygen mask and cervical collar together likely inflicted were increasing his level of distress. Though the doctors might disagree there, this was an innate truth which Steve fully believed in. Without a doubt, as Danny roused more but failed at truly waking, no amount of pain medication or sedation would ever alleviate this particular stress and so, Steve reached out, seeking to calm him as Danny's breathing noticeably altered.

Steve reached out, his hand finding a spot just above the strap to the oxygen mask. His fingers traced gently along Danny's temple, his thumb falling on the deep creases in his forehead where Steve rubbed a gentle circle of sorts.

"Hey ... hey," Steve breathed out, a smile in his tone when he thought he saw Danny mouth his name, though part of him was sure that hadn't actually happened. Nonetheless, Steve continued talking, hoping that Danny might hear or find some comfort in knowing he wasn't alone.

"Yeah, yeah ... I'm here. Not going anywhere, buddy."

Steve stood there not knowing if he was doing any good at all. Hunched over the bed, he now found himself oddly willing the stressed twitching of Danny's hands to calm where he once craved their action; demanding that Danny's erratic breathing find a happier, quieter cadence while he rolled his thumb gently up, down and around on his forehead. Wishing that Danny would just open his damned eyes a little bit so he could see for himself that he'd be all right. Instead, Steve found himself murmuring the contrary when Danny drew in a deeper breath, his chest seemingly hitching in pain.

"Easy. _Easy_ ... come on, buddy ... take it slow," Steve murmured worriedly as Danny's face scrunched up more and he gagged again, a sharp cough on its heels. Danny's pain was obvious and Steve stood back in alarm, ready to call the nurse or doctor, fully understanding what that chest-deep ache felt like as he fought to stifle a similar spasm. He watched, wary, as Danny's cough subsided to a wheeze. Hesitating to reach out again, but finally doing so to resume that same circular motion across his friend's forehead.

" _Shhh_. You're going to be okay," he repeated, knowing that he had to wait longer for Danny to open his eyes because his partner simply needed more time.

"Rest ... sleep, Danny," Steve whispered as he watched Danny's expression begin to ease, tense muscles relaxing one by one. He stood there, whispering nonsensical things, his thumb never ceasing in its course. Amazed when Danny's breathing finally ... _finally_ evened out as if he might be ... listening? Possibly aware of Steve's presence?

"Hey? Can you hear me, Danno?" He asked, suddenly realizing that Danny ... _did_.

"You can, can't you," Steve said in wonder as he watched a peaceful change come over Danny's face. "Get some rest ... I'll wait," he whispered quietly, utterly relieved that this - just being here - mattered enough.

He would remain there then, steadfast. Ready to flatly decline the pending demands that he, too, return to his room to rest. All the while, murmuring reassurances while Danny tiredly mouthed his name again and the heavy, pained lines around his eyes smoothed as he gave in to sleep.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	26. Chapter 26 - Travesty

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _a word and a muse with an idea ... this one took some time to craft. See a mistake, let me know - not beta'd and I've gone a bit cross-eyed trying to spellcheck and word check the darned thing!_

 _PS: Light on plot but it's all about the bromance, right?_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day:** Travesty - a false or distorted representation of something, usually of something serious._

Wrapping his fingers in the material of Steve's t-shirt, Danny physically hauled Steve's upper body off the ground. He paused as Steve's head lolled listlessly on his neck, screwed his eyes closed and then his muscles bunched as he readied himself for the strain of what he was about to do next.

"Wake up you two-ton excuse for ...," Danny grunted, his breath literally pushed out of his lungs as he heaved Steve's lanky frame over his shoulders, his legs shaking as he staggered almost upright, his partner in a fireman's carry.

In order to save his breath, he didn't dare say anything else at that point. Keeping his head down, Danny focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He grunted and cursed inside his head. Danny was strong, but Steve was easily a full head taller and damnably heavy. Changing his mental curses to a mindless chant, Danny forged on. He knew how to do this; hell, he'd done it before. A thousand times. But not quite under these circumstances and certainly not with a bum knee. And never ... just never ... with his best friend slung helplessly over his back.

Danny stumbled on for as long as he could, which was distressingly not very far at all. With his back screaming in pain and his legs wobbling badly, he had to stop. He let Steve down slowly cushioning him as best as possible, ignoring the way his muscles quivered under the strain. Holding him all the way down. His hands behind Steve's head and neck, controlling every move as he laid him on the ground under a tree.

"At least it was your truck this time," Danny muttered breathlessly as he fell to his knees next to Steve's side. Far off in the distance, he could hear the occasional pop of gunfire. The boom of Chin's blessed shotgun. One-handed, he shoved Steve's P266 more firmly down the back of his jeans. His smaller P30 was in his hands again as he huddled on the ground, covering Steve's upper body with his own. He panted heavily, trying to breathe, his lungs straining as badly as his legs and his back.

"God dammit," he pushed out tiredly as he swiped sweat off his face. Things couldn't be worse. Separated from the rest of his team, Danny checked his clip. Between his weapon and Steve's he had six bullets left. Unexpectedly ambushed at what should have been a straight forward meet and greet with one of their regular snitches, they'd been setup instead. If their man wasn't dead already, Danny was planning his own brand of comeuppance.

"Sorry, babe," Danny muttered as Steve unconsciously flinched away from him. Steve was injured. Bleeding from two bullet wounds. Half listening for trouble, Danny stripped himself of his button-down shirt. He then ripped each sleeve off using his teeth before shrugging back into it and letting it hang open, un-buttoned down to his waist. He did his best to tend the first wound on Steve's head with one piece of material. With the other, he tightly wrapped the through and through on Steve's upper arm. He couldn't completely stop the bleeding, but once he was done, it felt better than having done nothing at all.

"Steve?" Danny softly asked. He gently tapped Steve's cheek before using that as an excuse to drape his fingers loosely over Steve's neck, aware of the steady thrum of his pulse and the volume of feverish heat brought on by stress. Through everything, Steve remained dead to the world and Danny cursed softly under his breath.

"You promised Charlie a swim tomorrow ... and as much as I hate the idea of you teaching him anything related to water ... or, really anything at all...," Danny recanted. "You'd better not disappoint my kid, Steven. Now wake the hell up, would'ja please?"

Danny scrubbed heavily at his face when Steve didn't budge a single inch. He was tempted to re-join the fray and yet, he hesitated. He could hope that he'd found a safe enough place to keep Steve hidden until HPD arrived. On one hand, he intended to stay with Steve, but the rest of his team likely needed him too and Danny waffled in indecision. He and Steve were separated from the main fighting and he wasn't entirely certain which way to safely circle back round. He didn't have a headcount on their attackers either. And at that very second, he felt as if a thousand eyes were on him and in response, Danny sunk lower into the earth, looking, searching.

He could walk into the midst of a gunfight or worse yet, leave Steve wide open for attack. Alone. Vulnerable. This faction of the cartel was out to prove a point. They wanted to count coup on law enforcement. They would take lives and then brag about it for days. Danny wasn't about to let Steve, himself - or anyone on his team for that matter - be used as that kind of collateral.

"Report," Danny whispered into his comm link. "Everybody okay? Anybody have eyes?"

His own eyes were keen as he tried to see through the underbrush and beyond the pineapple grove. But he couldn't see a damned thing. The sounds of gunfire were still relatively distant with an occasional spate much closer to his ten o'clock position. No one was there and yet he felt as if he was being watched.

 _"Northside,"_ came Chin's eventual reply. _"Lou's on my six; Kono ... she's ... ah ..."_

 _"Aloft ... like an eagle,"_ Kono interrupted, her tone actually sarcastic and Danny had to grin, knowing she was in one of the grove's water towers taking pot shots. _"You? Steve?"_

"Maybe south, southeast," Danny said, his voice tight with stress. "Truck's dead ... Steve's down. Sitting blind."

 _"Shit,"_ Lou whispered harshly though the airwaves. _"How bad? Can you move?"_

"Bad enough," Danny replied. He glanced worriedly down at Steve and considered throwing him over his shoulder to get deeper into the tree line and then changed his mind. Blood was already seeping through his poor attempts at bandaging both wounds. His friend was out for the foreseeable future. That plain fact made his mind up for him: Danny didn't dare leave Steve's side. Even with two weapons, he was low on clips. He needed help to come to them.

"And no," he admitted. "We're good here ... at least in the short term. Listen. HPD is less than five out. Need an ambulance ... but need cover first."

 _"Copy that,"_ Chin said abruptly. Danny nodded as their short conversation was cut, knowing that Chin would find him first. He rocked back on his heels, focused for a moment on Steve.

"Steve?" Danny whispered, bending down closer when he thought he heard a low moan. He waited and then breathed easier when Steve's hand twitched and his eyes partly opened.

"There you are," he whispered with a relieved smile. "How're you doing, huh?"

 _"H'ppn'd?"_ Steve pushed out, wincing through a slow blink of his eyes. He raised his hand towards his face and then let it drop back down to the ground. _"M'head?"_

"Yeah. I bet you've got one helluva headache," Danny replied. "Just take it easy, okay?" He chuffed a half-amused sound as Steve stirred more, his heels briefly scotching in the dirt. With a shake of his head, Danny firmly planted his hand on Steve's chest to keep him in place. "Uh, yeah. No, Steve. Sit. Stay, buddy. Back-ups on the way."

 _"Bk-up?"_ Steve made a pained sound deep in his throat, his eyes threatening to close again. _"Not m'fault_?" He wheezed out, peering hazily through his lashes up into Danny's face.

Danny sniffed back a laugh. "Actually? If you can believe it ... for the first time in recorded history, no. It's not your fault at all," he replied wryly. "In fact, I can't believe I'm even admitting that out loud. We got setup ... royally."

 _"W'rting,_ " Steve slurred softly while tapping weakly at Danny's hand. _"W'nt that in w'rting, D'nno."_

"If we get the hell out of here in one piece, you can have whatever you want ... in triplicate. Notarized even," Danny said just as a noise had him whirling around on his knees, his gun pointed high, his body between Steve and what he thought he heard. A subtle inhale of breath. The smallest of twigs snapping under a heel. Danny narrowed his eyes, wary, listening harder.

"Chin?" Danny cautiously called out, grimacing when a strange, sharp laugh reached his ears.

"Hello pig," a nasty voice breathed out. "Not quite."

Danny leaned further over the upper half of Steve's body, his gun aimed in the direction of the voice. "Shit, where is he?" Danny whispered under his breath when he failed at finding its source, his hand still protectively splayed across Steve's chest.

"N'uh uh, cop ... drop it," the voice demanded at the same time the skulking hulk of a man appeared from a shadowy tangle of trees and vines. He chuckled in amusement. "Awww? Isn't this sweet? You two having a picnic ... some quiet time together?"

There was a quick shift though and the man's leering tone changed on a dime to something darker, more dangerous. "Put your damned gun down. Do it. Now." He all but snarled the words, his intentions clear even as Danny pushed his gun to the side just out of his reach.

"You don't want to kill two cops," Danny said, stalling for time. He clutched at Steve's shirt desperately when he felt his partner weakly stiffen as if readying to do something. In response, Danny pushed firmly downwards. ' _Nonononono_.' Danny cringed silently, begging Steve not to make a drastic mistake.

"Don't I?" The cartel lackey chuckled, his eyes sparkling mockingly. "It's what I'm here for, isn't it? Killing cops ... not doing my job the right way would be a real travesty now, wouldn't it?"

"Travesty?" Danny snorted through his nose, all the while cognizant of Steve's muscular tremors. "Big word for the likes of you."

"So, I read a lot," the man retorted, teeth gritted in anger as Danny mouthed off at him again. "You got a problem with that?"

"What are you?" Danny snarked back without thinking. "The king of rhetorical questions?"

The man gaped at him for a moment before bursting out with a sharp, sardonic laugh. "Funny man, aren't you?"

"Point made," Danny spat back defensively. He couldn't stretch this out forever though and he had nothing at his disposal. Not a damned thing until he felt Steve's fingers fumbling across his hip. With no clear way to communicate, Danny gently tugged on Steve's shirt again in askance. He was worried, counting the seconds now until each of them met a gruesome end. Danny tightened his grip on Steve's shirt all the while watching their attacker who was on a sat phone to other members of his team, crowing with delight at his find.

"Knock it _off_ ," Danny hissed out quietly. He pushed downwards again, but this time Steve grunted in annoyance and pushed back harder. His fingernails dug sharply into Danny's thigh hard enough to make him wince.

 _What the hell was Steve doing?_ They still had a chance, slim as it was if Chin could just reach them in time ... unless ... and Danny realized what his partner was trying to do.

The gun. _Of course._

Steve's gun was rocked firmly between his waist and his jeans, completely out of view. Using their attacker's position as excuse, Danny stayed on his knees and twisted around a bit more, giving Steve easier access to get to his gun. It was technically within Steve's reach ... at least, if not for his partner's current physical state and Danny held his breath. Time stood still as Steve's fingers trembled and slipped off the gun's grip. He couldn't find the reach nor the traction to actually wrap his fingers around it though.

 _'Come on, come on,'_ Danny chanted inside his head as he tried to increase his subtle twist. Time was running out. He didn't like the plan, but what choice did either of them have? Danny heard a soft groan and then a discordant panted breath of air. Steve's upper body shifted painfully upwards, his fingers crept closer, trembling. Awkwardly fighting the material of Danny's jeans as he tried to wrap his hand around the gun's grip.

And then he had it and Danny was moving even as Steve rasped out a desperate command.

"D-down!" Steve stammered out hoarsely as Danny felt that final yank on the P266. He did as he was told while Steve swung his weapon upwards, lunging sideways over Steve's body, still insistent on providing some sort of cover over his downed partner.

Steve's gun went off near his ear at the same time he heard Chin's shotgun blast and a third from their attacker's weapon. He would have shouted for joy, but Steve's body suddenly quaked under him before going lax.

"S-Steve?" Alarmed, Danny tried to get his arms to work. He tried to push himself up as he heard a loud pop in tandem with Chin's warning shout. Instead, Danny wound up grunting in pain as something burned a track along the side of his head, down towards his ear. He wavered for a moment and then pitched forward. Stunned into blackness, Danny went down hard and stayed that way, sprawled on his stomach across Steve's motionless body.

 **H5O* H5O**

It was the voices he heard first. Their steady hum of life that pulled him out of that pitch-darkness faster than he might have otherwise woken on his own. With it came not only pain, but the very last thing he could remember.

 _The gun. Steve practically crawling up his body to take one desperate shot, then an elbow in his back as Steve fired his weapon. Steve ... collapsing._

"Where's he?" Danny half groaned and half slurred when he finally peeled his eyes partly open to the brightness of a hospital emergency room. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment against the harsh blur just as Kono hurried to his side. Then he was trying again, blinking furiously against the light.

"Steve. Where's he at?"

"Across the hall," Kono replied, her eyes communicating her own surprise that he was awake and then trying to get up. "Whoa! Whoa ... Danny! Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

Instead of answering her, Danny grappled for her arm, using it as an anchor to pull himself into a seated position. The EMTs had cared for his head wound, but he was still a bloody mess. It was obvious that he hadn't been properly seen yet by any attending doctor in the busy ER. Traces of blood still smeared his cheek and more had dripped onto his shoulder and then onto his chest. His tattered shirt hung open, hanging uselessly around his waist and he couldn't have cared less. With no recourse but to help, Kono got Danny to his feet and then used her body to brace his weight.

"Danny ...," she tried to object. "You should be taking it easy, _brah_. You both literally just got here ... they're still checking Steve out. You're supposed to see the next doctor and go in for a CAT scan ... _Danny_!"

Nearly blinded by the roar in his head and the spots dancing before his eyes, Danny tugged Kono along, his intentions clear despite not saying another word.

 _He needed to see Steve. No apologies were to be given. He needed to know ... he needed to be sure._

He moved the privacy curtain aside, squinting painfully as he tried to absorb the controlled chaos taking place around his partner's body. Almost too methodically Danny ticked off what he was seeing. Oxygen mask. Okay, that was par for the course. Blood pressure cuff. Standard practice; Danny could understand that, too. Along with the requisite intravenous line for basic fluids. But Steve was far from quiet now. His voice might have been muffled by the oxygen mask, but he was apparently becoming a challenge to his caregivers.

"Sir, you need to calm down," Danny heard one of the nurses insist. "Sir, _please_! Once we know, we'll share the information with you."

Danny moved closer then, pulling Kono along with him. Steve legs moved restlessly on the gurney and Danny clearly heard another annoyed growl emanate from his partner's lips. Standing just off to the side, Danny saw that his makeshift, shirt-sleeve bandages were gone for want of better, more pristine proper bandages. At least, the deep crease along Steve's hairline had already been cleaned and was being re-dressed.

The wound in his arm was being studied, investigated, and peered at with interest though by the attending physician and Danny sidled even closer.

"How's he doing?" Danny demanded to know. "Is he all right?"

"Stable. We're going to have to flush this wound out ... liberally ... before ...," the doctor murmured as he concentrated on Steve's arm, glancing up distractedly before doing a double-take when he realized whom he was actually speaking to. Then, his expression changed to one of shock as he came eye to eye with Danny.

"Detective! What in God's name are you doing on your feet?!"

"My partner," Danny repeated stubbornly, ignoring the man's short tirade entirely. "How is he?"

"Funny," the doctor stated as he glanced down towards Steve, his hand firmly anchored to his patient's chest. "He's been demanding to know the very same thing about you."

"What?" Danny stupidly murmured. He blinked and then wobbled in place, leaning more heavily than he intended to on Kono's shoulder. He looked at the doctor and then down to Steve, stunned to see two dark hazel eyes blearily looking back at him.

"Steven?"

"Danny," Steve breathed out, his tone one of abject relief. "Thought you'd died." His legs quieted at the same time he gave in to the doctor and the nurses. However, his eyes flickered over Danny's face, taking in the stained dressing along his scalp. Then the blood stains marring his cheek, his chest, followed by the ruined state of his dress shirt and he frowned in confusion.

"You look like shit, Danno. Can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Danny shook his head despite the way it made his stomach roil and the room shift off its keel. For a long long moment, he didn't know what to say as he stared down at his partner. He didn't know what to say because he was thinking the very same thing which Steve had just voiced. Danny had thought the worst. The moment in which Steve had collapsed, Danny had thought he'd died, too.

"Danny?" Steve was staring at him harder now. Evidently worried that he'd not said another word since dragging himself across the breadth of the emergency room. "You okay? Maybe you should go sit down now, huh? Let the doc take a look at you, okay?"

"I will, if you will," Danny whispered back, placated when Steve nodded in agreement. Their eyes met and held, allowing Danny to draw in a deeper, more settling lungful of air. "And don't forget. You ... you uh, promised Charlie. You promised to take him swimming, Steven."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Danno," Steve said, his eyes briefly brightening and his smile obvious despite the obstruction of the oxygen mask. He paused and then grinned more. "That would be a travesty now, wouldn't it? Not taking Charlie ... not keeping my promise."

Danny raised an eyebrow, his lips suddenly quirking upwards into a smile of his own. He snorted, and then tried not to laugh because he knew it would make his head pound harder than it already was. But in the end, as Kono piloted him back towards his own exam area, he did anyway.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	27. Chapter 27 - Indecision

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** Not beta'd any mistakes are my own. If you see an error, please let me know.

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day:** Indecision - a wavering between two or more possible courses of action_.

He couldn't do it again. No. _No_ , he wouldn't _let_ them do it again. Jaw set in determination and ready to argue his case, even fight them if necessary, Danny gave the nurse his best death-glare until he saw his partner hovering just inside the doorway. He waffled. Badly.

"Steve?" Danny called out more plea than question. His face crumpled then in abject relief, losing his faux sense of purpose in that instant he saw his partner. Bone-tired and utterly - helplessly - useless to stop what was going to really happen. Danny held his hand up, pleading with Steve to intervene even though he knew that his partner wouldn't be able to do a damned thing either. At least not for long.

"Steve ... hey. I... uh." He wanted to say so much but his voice failed him.

 _I can't do this._

 _Make it stop._

 _Get me the hell out of here._

 _Not again ...please._

If he thought his claustrophobia was bad in a real situation which might warrant it, being in the hospital was surely bringing that tendency to the fore. He was trapped. Stuck in place. Incapable of moving or getting away from angels who were slowly becoming demons in the minutes and hours between when his visitors came. There was nothing romantic about being in the hospital. Nothing peaceful about the flowers, get well cards or balloons. At night, in the hours between, they lost their color and faded into the background. When his angels became demons and he was merely the patient in bed 323, Danny wallowed and began a dark descent which was slowly spiraling out of control.

"Steve ... hey." Danny's voice barely projected beyond the edge of the hospital bed and Steve saw it all; he recognized Danny's fear and then heard his plea. He gently shouldered by the nurse, his expression sad, worried, and scared all combined into one terrible whole. He'd soon be just as helpless as Danny, but he could at least provide a bit of a buffer.

"Give us a few minutes?" Steve asked the nurse as he carefully perched himself on the edge of Danny's hospital bed, their hands now clasped together. Danny tried to voluntarily loosen his death-grip, but his knuckles were already white. His hand sweaty and cold inside Steve's drier, warmer one. Steve didn't say a word about it, nor did he look at the nurse. It was as if he didn't really see her at all. On another day, Danny might have smiled because Steve just assumed that she'd do whatever he'd asked. Period. End of story. Steve also never considered what he might do if she'd declined his request. Danny briefly wondered about that before he just didn't care. Over Steve's shoulder, Danny saw what Steve couldn't. He saw the nurse frown and then her hesitation as she stopped cold, bandages and medical supplies in hand. She looked into Danny's face and paused, indecision in her expression.

He read her thoughts clear as day.

 _She had things to do - other patients to care for._ Steve was disrupting her routine and she was resentful about that; she could also pull her own rank and insist that she continue on her task. Steve was messing with her schedule and Danny wondered if this time, the nurse would indeed refuse and argue for her rights. But then she was relenting and leaving, and Danny relaxed just a bit.

"Bad night," Steve noted, drawing Danny's full attention back to him. His eyes were big inside a face which Danny thought might mirror his own levels of fear and worries. Steve not only cared ... he also knew what Danny was going through. That mattered _. A lot._

"You got this ... you know that. Just a few more days and you'll be outta here."

After a minute, Danny nodded as he accepted the cup of water Steve held out to him. His hand was shaking already and his mouth was dry. He sipped carefully at the water, fidgeting and fighting with himself to go slow because more than a sip would send him into a painful coughing fit. His throat wasn't only dry, it was closing up and his breath was already off ... inconsistent and fluttery inside his chest.

"You're okay," Steve said and Danny snorted softly under his breath. That was almost comical. The _'are you okay?'_ question had become a _'you're okay'_ statement within a short period of time. The former had quickly become a ridiculously stupid question of mammoth proportions. Steve had recognized that too. So at least from Steve, there were no more _questions_ about how Danny was feeling or what he might need or even what he really wanted. Just statements of pure, unadulterated fact.

Danny was supposed to believe that he'd be okay. He wasn't sure if he knew how though. That particular fact was Steve's and not necessarily his. Not yet.

"I'll stay and after, we'll watch the game," Steve added just as calmly as before. "I spoke to the doctor this morning and he thinks you'll be outta here in three days tops. This time next week, you'll be home ... parked in your favorite chair. Beer in hand and burgers on the grill. No more hospital food or ...," and Steve smirked as he gave a circumspect nod towards Danny's blanketed torso. "... or more ... you know ... tubes or wires."

Danny tried to smile. He really did, but he was still having a hell of a time thinking that far ahead and even imagining being in a better spot. And the truth was, he'd probably be exchanging one type of hell for another in the forms of physical therapy, other kinds of pills, and continued doctors visits. Things would only be different.

And did _different_ come in flavors? Danny didn't know. He couldn't get his brain to figure it all out. Unable of living beyond his current nose, Danny was stuck in the pain and horror of his present condition. He couldn't envision anything better at all.

He nodded for no reason at all then, his eyes begging to be allowed to close. He was always exhausted; his muscles, always shaking. There never seemed to be enough rest prescribed within his daily routine. Doctors, nurses ... a never-ending assembly line of being poked and prodded for some reason or another disturbed him at all times of day or night. There was always something to be done to keep him breathing - to keep him alive.

Blood tests, sponge baths, simple bed-ridden exercises to avoid pneumonia, a veritable overabundance of medications in both pill and intravenous forms to combat pain and infection. Then there were the sad attempts at sitting on the edge of the bed. Trying to stand, then shuffle a few slippered steps with an aide on either side of him offering support.

He snorted softly under his breath again, tears threatening. _Support?_ What did that mean really? Danny was beginning to wonder if anything was worth it.

 _Was he worth it? Why did it matter?_

"Danno?" He must have closed his eyes or zoned out, because Danny found himself blinking madly to focus back on Steve's blurry face. There was a gentle tug on his fingers, the feel of Steve's thumb on his pulse point. The heavy warmth of Steve's other hand splayed across his good shoulder.

"Yeah. Sure," he rasped out. He was still there. _Just_. Danny's eyes met Steve's for a second time and he read the worry all over again before another movement caught his attention. His gaze flicked away to the doorway and his swallow was convulsive. The nurse was back and Danny felt himself cringing.

"Look at me," Steve said adamantly when Danny tried to look away. Their eyes met and held this time. There was much more in Steve's expression now. A strength and a determination which Danny latched on to with both hands. There was something new in Steve's stare which he could hope to draw on and try to lose himself in to get through another day.

 _Try. Hope._ Danny's expression wavered and Steve shook his head, his tone calm.

"You're okay," Steve stated it again as a simple fact while the nurse prepared her tray to change the bandages, repack the gauze in the one-time gaping bullet wound. It was smaller now ... healing well so he was told. Yet Danny still didn't see it that way. He couldn't _feel_ it that way. The pain was just as thick, heavy and oppressive. Any attention aimed at that wound, no matter how gentle, would take his breath away, bring tears to his eyes; test his ability to not literally growl out his agony.

His breath shuddered in preparation of that fire as the nurse began to inject a few supposedly soothing ingredients into his IV line. They'd help of course. The morphine and the antiemetic. None of that preamble was ever enough though and Danny briefly screwed his eyes shut, trying to breathe through something which hadn't even begun.

 _Pavlov's bell._ His body coiled and tensed because over the last week it had learned how to react to the nurse's presence. Blinding pain. Nausea.

 _Not again ... please._

Danny heaved in a broken breath of air, eyes still closed, and promptly coughed. He winced at the warning pull inside his chest and felt the sweat beading his forehead.

 _Get me the hell out of here._

"Steve?" Danny's whisper was scarcely audible. Steve heard him though and he understood everything that went with the utterance of his name.

 _Make it stop._

"Take it easy," Steve coached quietly. "I'm right here ... and you _are_ okay. Besides, I need to tell you something ... it's important, Danno. It can't wait and I need to tell you about it now."

If Danny was hurting the fingers on Steve's hand, Steve certainly didn't complain. Danny focused back on Steve's face, breathing in his partner's stalwart strength and not only hearing the calm words, but listening to them this time.

Steve didn't offer him platitudes. He didn't lie or mislead him at all. So as Danny clung to his best friend's hand while the nurse began to change the dressing on the bullet wound, Danny focused on Steve's careful smile, knew it meant something and found the wherewithal to ask about it.

"What?" Danny asked brokenly as his breath threatened to leave him. The nurse was close ... right on top of him and Danny felt the first layer get peeled back. The old gauze was sticking in spots to his skin and no matter her care, the ache flared. "W-what h-happened?"

He cringed and tried not to cough as she teased the first layer away. His throat was drier than dust. His resilience practically gone. The old bandages were slowly removed one by one, tossed aside on the nurse's tray. He tried to ignore the muted red color he could see just out of the corner of his eye. The pain was becoming deep and numbing despite the preparatory medication given him. He could feel the room's cool air waft across his ruined tissues and it hurt more. Danny closed his eyes and then forced them back open when Steve squeezed his fingers, his determination was flagging far too soon.

"You're going to like this. We got him," Steve stated bluntly. His smile grew when Danny stared almost dumbly at him. "Ewing. We got him early this morning. The DEA caught him at the airport - _this morning_ \- trying to board a plane to Paris. He's in custody ... quite alive ... and going down for everything he's done, Danno. We got him, buddy."

His fingers rubbed methodically up and over Danny's knuckles as he patiently waited for Danny to absorb what he'd just said.

Danny blinked again, more wildly than ever before. Michael Ewing? They'd gotten him? The man who had orchestrated the trafficking of innocent children ... the man who had shot Danny with intent to kill at point blank range?

"Ewing? Seriously?" Danny croaked out and then shook his head in disbelief. But ... Steve never lied and he was smiling. Beaming actually and Danny forgot all about the nurse. He forgot everything as his partner's expression became predatory and wolf-like. Steve was so damned pleased that Danny felt the change in energy clear down to his toes. It was as if an electrical charge permeated between them and a warmth flooded through Danny strong enough to calm his breathing and quiet the pained tremble in his hands.

"Oh yeah," Steve replied. "I'm totally serious. The conceited bastard was at the gate ... nearly boarding when Agent Morales and his team plucked him right then and there off the queue. I saw him myself and shared a few choice - ah... _words_. By tomorrow, he'll be State-side and after? No doubt he'll be put away for a very, very ... _very_ long time."

"Holy shit," Danny murmured distractedly. "We got him ... we really got him."

He smiled and then grinned up into Steve's face. Steve's sharing of a few choice words could mean just about anything. Danny had a good idea of what that was though and Agent Morales would have turned a very blind eye. As Danny imagined Ewing's belligerent and likely shocked reaction to being captured and brought in for every one of his indiscretions, Danny wanted to laugh out right, but that would have been asking far too much of his beleaguered body. Instead he smiled broadly, completely not aware of the fact that the nurse had changed the dressings on his wound, gathered up her supplies, and had already left the room.

"Here, have some," Steve said. "Your breakfast is here, too. Then ... we can watch that game."

"Huh?" Danny paused his thoughts about Ewing as Steve raised the head of the bed a few cautious inches and pressed a cup of juice into his hands. He looked around almost stupidly. There was a dull ache inside his chest where the wound had been redressed; uncomfortable, and yet wholly manageable. Danny frowned and look towards Steve in askance. _Where the hell had the nurse gone off to?_

"I told you ... you're okay," Steve repeated off-handedly. He pointed at the tray of covered food. "Drink. Eat. Game. Or, take a nap ... I don't care."

Danny's mouth fell open wide. What the hell had just happened? Steve was already re-arranging his long body into the plastic side chair which he'd pulled over to the bed. He had no intention of going anywhere for the day and no intention of dwelling on what had just occurred with the nurse, and zero intent of providing more information about Ewing.

 _What?_ His brain backfired as he tentatively asked his body how it was feeling. Tired; aching, but almost okay. Danny was no fool and yet he could only stare at Steve in wonderment while his partner merely shrugged in silent reply.

 _He'd done it again. He'd survived._

It had happened ... but Danny wasn't quite sure how it had happened. The nurse was gone - the pain bearable. _Ewing was in custody._ Danny's mouth gaped open soundlessly, searching for words which wouldn't come. He tried over and over again to say something and failed. Instead, the tray of food was pushed gently under his nose. He was expected to eat now and damn, if it didn't smell good and if his stomach didn't actually rumble softly in appreciation.

"Three more days, Danno," Steve added over the top of some newspaper which had magically appeared in his hands. It fluttered noisily in the air as Steve tried to fold it into a more manageable size. He nodded towards the tray of food and smiled, his eyes bright and encouraging. The earlier feelings of fear and worry had dissipated.

"Eat ... game's gonna start soon."

Danny nodded and shook his head, his internal signals crossing, still bewildered over so many things. He glanced quizzically toward his partner, but now Steve was evidently immersed in the sports section. Danny chuffed a soft noise under his breath.

 _He'd done it again. He'd be home this time next week._ That sense of feeling claustrophobic eased inside his chest and Danny sighed, inexplicably feeling more calm now.

Danny snuck another glance towards Steve and this time, their eyes briefly met before the newspaper rustled again and Steve re-focused on whatever article he was mock-reading. Nevertheless, Danny had caught Steve's smile before it was hidden from view and he smiled to himself, too, as he unwrapped the plastic fork.

He was okay.

So? _So, yeah, he could do this_ and well... he simply would.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	28. Chapter 28 - Palmy

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _Word of the Day came practically from out of the blue! I have a ton of other things to do, but when the muse needs to be soothed, it must be soothed. Ongoing thanks to Jlopie who came in from feeding cows to prod the slightly inebriated (pleasantly numb?) muse ... :-) AND THEN ... did another round while not feeling well today._

 _Jlopie: Thank you so much for pitching in - I'm gonna gift this one shot to you for all your help when you've got so much going on!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Palmy. **1\. __glorious, prosperous, or flourishing: the palmy days of yesteryear._ _2._ _abounding in or shaded with palms: palmy islands._

Steve giggled. The sound he made - its shrillness - even startled himself and his eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, he wondered if he sounded like Danny; like that weird, high-pitched giggle his partner might make when his guard was down. So surprised by the thought which compounded everything else around him, Steve giggled again.

He raised his hand up high and stared at it. It was trembling, but not too badly. Just a tiny waver here and there as if he'd thwacked it against something hard leaving behind a residual tremor of sorts. He didn't care. It didn't hurt. It would go away. What caught his attention more though was the palm of that hand. It was incredibly clean. Spotless in fact. He could see each and every line, crease and old scar. Tiny thin spiderwebs which criss-crossed... here and there.

He blinked and tried to look at the movement just beyond his hand. It shimmered darkly and Steve couldn't figure out what it was.

"Hey. How're you doing?" The fuzzy shape beyond his hand spoke. But it was still backlit by the sun and offset by the blue of the sky. Steve blinked but couldn't get the shape to sharpen like the palm of his hand. Not even like the leaves of the trees closest to him. Nothing like the green silken leaves of the palms swaying just over his head. _Leaves_? Steve blinked again, immediately distracted by the soothing greenery and Steve's gaze shifted. That couldn't be right. Did palm trees even have leaves? Or were they ... palmy? He didn't know. He couldn't remember. He'd grown up on the islands and suddenly felt vaguely embarrassed by not being able to _remember_.

 _Leaves_ had to be wrong though. Palm trees had big green fronds. Like fans. Big _frondy_ ...palms ... so they were by default, palmy.

He sighed happily as he reasoned it all out before he grinned, then giggled, its tone sharp and loud. _Palmy_. Sure. Why not.

"Steve?" The fuzzy shape was closer now and Steve tried to focus harder when something tickled his consciousness. He knew the shape and that meant that he knew who it was ... _Danny_. Of course. Danny was back and hunkering down next to him in the sand under the palm trees where it was cooler. Possibly even safer, but Steve let that briefly worrisome word slide through his brain like water down a drain.

"It's palmy,' Steve giggled upwards into his partner's blurred face. Danny was nothing more than a blonde sun-tanned blur of golds and whites. Steve couldn't make out a single feature on his partner's face. He could only assume where Danny's eyes had to be or his nose, maybe his mouth as Danny spoke more to him.

"Steven." Danny's tone bespoke of worry and trouble. "Calm down ... you're okay. You're going to be fine. The helo is only a few minutes out now."

Fine? Of course he was fine as a breeze wafted gently over his body off the ocean. It ruffled through the palm trees next, their rustling sound soothing over head. His gaze flickered briefly skywards to watch their sway and he smiled. He was better than fine when things were ... _palmy_.

"Palmy," he whispered around a broken giggle. "Do you see it? It's all palmy. Right?" But his voice cracked and then faded. Was he right? He still had his hand up in the air, his palm still facing his eyes, and he'd just confused himself. Steve stared at an old white scar marring the fleshy part of skin under his thumb. He couldn't remember where it had come from, but that wasn't why he was confused. He'd lost his already sketchy train of thought.

"Danny?" He asked. "You do see it? R-right? It's ... palmy. R-right?" Was his hand palmy or was it the palm trees? He blinked stupidly as Danny covered his hand with his own. "Danno?"

"Hey, yeah. Okay, I see it and you're right... you're right," Danny replied as he knelt by Steve's side in the sand. "Just relax for me, okay, babe?" Steve scowled though, wondering where his palm had gone inside the unmistakable black of Danny's glove. The black of the material was too close, too dark and he couldn't focus clearly on it. He rolled his head to the side and stopped, wincing when an ache flared unexpectedly inside near his ear, his temple, to roll thickly back towards the base of his skull. Something had happened and finally ... _finally_ ... Steve saw Danny's face. The blur sharpened so quickly, Steve's stomach twisted into a sickening knot.

"N-need to get up," Steve said. His legs moved lazily in the sand, his heels digging shallow ruts, but Danny shook his head.

" _Shhh_ , no. No you don't," Danny murmured as he gently pushed Steve's hand back down to his chest. He held it there, his gloved fingers wrapped firmly around Steve's when he tried to pull free. "Relax. Take it easy. You're making about as much sense as a four-year old."

"Charlie's four," Steve said. "What?" Danny suddenly seemed surprised at the comparison. Obviously he'd forgotten just how old his son was. "He's four, Danno," Steve repeated. He tried to roll his eyes when Danny's mouth gaped wide, but he grimaced when his skull thrummed warningly.

"No, no he's not ..." Danny sighed out, his tone now edged with even more concern. Steve watched, confused as his partner scrubbed hard at his face with his free hand. Danny looked upset with him and he didn't know why.

"Charlie's six ... geez, Steven, you're scrambled."

"He's not," Steve insisted stubbornly. Danny had to be - no, he was wrong - plainly wrong about Charlie's age. Steve knew the little boy was four years old. He made a face, squinting as his headache increased, staying patient as he tried to correct his partner's error. "No. Nope. Charlie can't be six, Danno. He's only four ... he's just this big, too."

He tried to free his hand again from where Danny had it practically pinned to his chest to demonstrate just how tall Charlie was now. For some reason, Danny wouldn't let him go though and Steve gave up. Instead, he peered up into Danny's face and smiled, baffled when his friend barely smiled back.

"Little guy," Steve said for good measure, placated when Danny at least nodded in agreement. For a four-year old, Charlie was still a mite of a thing. All blonde hair and sparking blue eyes ... a tiny version of his father with a ready smile and happy laugh. Steve grinned again at a remembered image of Charlie on a pint-sized bicycle in his partner's driveway.

"Four," Steve breathed out tiredly. He didn't feel well; the ache in his skull was toying with the queasiness in his stomach. Nonetheless, he had to make sure that Danny knew how old his son was. After all, how the heck could Danny forget something like that? It made no sense. Especially when Danny had just shown him pictures of small bikes as he tried to settle on just the right one for his next birthday - his fifth which was coming up.

"Charlie's four, Danno. Don't you remember? The bike? You were gonna get him a new ... _bike_. A blue one ... with training wheels." He sighed and then closed his eyes as another ocean-scented breeze whiffled across his face. It felt good and distracted him from the ache in his head which was suddenly over-taking those more pleasant thoughts.

"Musta forgot," Steve murmured softly. "S'okay though."

"All right, yeah I forgot. Just ... rest ... things are gonna be fine." Steve heard Danny whisper and he chuffed a pleased sound which sounded nothing like the giggle inside his aching head. If he could have, Steve would have rolled his eyes when he felt Danny's fingers tighten around his hand.

"Steve?" Danny's voice sounded strained, distant. He tried when Danny's fingers tightened even more, the bones in his hand practically creaking in response, but Steve's lids were too heavy and his eyes were closed for good.

" _Steve_?" Danny's voice tunnel into nothingness. _"Babe? Steve? Can you hear me ... Steve!"_ His own name became nothing more than a hollow whisper in the dark. Suddenly Steve couldn't find the energy to open them at all or to continue talking. He both heard his partner's pleas and oddly didn't at the same time. Nothing seemed to matter. The last thing which teased Steve's mind's eye was the sway of the palmy fronds over his head as a familiar resonant thud of rotors vibrated through his dwindling senses.

 **H5O* H5O**

Eyes closed, Danny sat on the edge of the chair, hunched over into a tight ball with his knees drawn up to his chest. Every so often, his upper body would rock in place, a result of the fatigue he was experiencing. He wouldn't go home though; not yet. Not until his partner deigned to wake up from a three day, self-induced comatose state.

"I hate you," Danny mumbled into his hands as he caught himself just in time from falling off the hard plastic chair to the even harder linoleum floor. His body lurched awkwardly. It was stupid really. One waiting for the other to wake up so the first could actually go to sleep. Danny scoffed under his breath and then broke out with a short, over-tired giggle.

"Only me. I swear to God, this only happens to me!" Biting back another sharp titter of sound, Danny pushed himself to fall backwards where he sat, his legs now splayed wide as his heels scotched across the floor. "I hate you so much right now. You have no idea. None."

Though they were burning, he forced his eyes to stay open. He probably could have gone home to sleep and freshen up a thousand times over. But the longer he stayed, the more he believed that he'd waited too long to act. The more he believed that he would miss the critical moment. So Danny stayed, camped out and digging in harder while he waited. Constantly second-guessing and then berating himself for not acting because Steve had yet to move ... hadn't moved ... and Danny could have taken a fast hour to himself. But he'd thought Steve had died on him and not just once, but twice. The first time during that very unexpected explosion which had momentarily taken Steve from his sight. And then the second time, on the beach, just before the chopper had landed when Steve had lost consciousness. Danny'd thought the very worst two terrible times and just couldn't bring himself to leave hospital grounds.

Danny stayed petrified even if the doctors had assured him of the opposite. Three whole days had gone by and his partner hadn't moved a single inch. Nothing. Not even a twitch of a finger. The doctors were baffled by it; they couldn't offer a single explanation with their only prescription being to give Steve time ... evidently, his body needed time to wake up on its own. So Danny could have left - should have left - could have taken a good, solid sleep of his own and he giggled again as fatigued muscles spasmed in his back.

"Freaking ridiculous," Danny sniffed around another impromptu throaty burble. "Wake up you jerk so I can go home .. I want to go to sleep."

He stared hard at Steve's face which was pale except for the livid bruise purpling the left side of his cheekbone, upwards into his temple. The scans had come back clean and yet Steve remained stubbornly ... _stubb_... no, _wait_. Something had changed and Danny perked up. He pursed his lips while he got to his feet, unsure at first until he saw it again.

"Steve?" He called out softly as he watched more closely, daring to smile when it happened again. The tiny wrinkle around an eye which suddenly became so much more. The movement across Steve's brow when it noticeably rippled and his nose scrunched up. Scarcely a second later, Steve's eyes fluttered and then opened. After three long long days, they were finally staring at each other.

"'bout freak'n time," Danny muttered in relief. "How're you doing? You feel okay?" He grinned helplessly as Steve focused on his face. But the grin twitched and faded at Steve's first words which had taken a long time coming.

"W-who the hell are you?" Steve asked after regarding Danny for a few minutes. His voice was rough but the incredible question quite clearly reached Danny's ears.

"Say ... what? _What_?" Danny rasped out. Worry flared into annoyance and then right back down into worry as his stomach lurched. "I don't sleep for _three_ days waiting for your sorry ass to wake up... and you want to know who I am?"

Danny's eyes widened incredulously when his partner narrowed his eyes mistrustfully back in his direction. Evidently, Steve was serious based on the stern tilt of his mouth; Danny had seen that look a countless number of times in their own 5-0 rendition room. Aimed at him though. Now. After being scared half out of his mind over three sleepless days? That look, aimed at him, simply wasn't fair.

"Yeah, I do," Steve repeated after a dry swallow. "I wanna know ... who you are." If possible, his eyes narrowed even more and his chin seemed to turn to stone.

Exhausted and on edge, Danny snorted. Loudly. This had to be a bad joke. Some sort of payback or penance for something he'd done wrong in some past life. He rocked on his feet, unsteadily, one hand on the edge of Steve's hospital bed seeking balance. The initial confusion on the beach was one thing, even understandable. Being a little off about Charlie's age and babbling about palmy trees were tiny nits after getting rattled so badly. But this? Now? After three days? It just wasn't fair.

"I'll get the doctor," Danny muttered to himself. "Yeah ... yeah, they'll help. They must-a missed something in the scans." He rubbed at his face again, before pinching the bridge of his nose to chase away an ill-timed dizziness. Steve's waking wasn't at all what Danny had even remotely anticipated and he giggled as he reached for the nurse's call button. First things first, it was the middle of the night and the nurse would be his first line of defense.

"Who am I he asks," Danny giggled uncontrollably now, reactive tears stinging his eyes. "Typical ... he nearly gets blown to shit by an old World War II ordnance or god knows what ... and then... _then_ he wants to know who the hell _I_ am! What are the odds of that, huh? Only me ... I swear to God, how is this my life?" His eyes teared up even more from the onslaught of hysterical laughter and Danny misjudged the tethered remote, his fingers numb as he scrabbled to reach it at the same time Steve intercepted him. Caught up in his thoughts, Danny missed the change in his partner's face ... the sudden spike in concern for him in Steve's eyes. He sure as hell didn't register what Steve was saying next as his knees wobbled; all Danny wanted was the damned nurse's call button but Steve was suddenly fighting him for the remote.

"Gimme that," Danny demanded hoarsely when Steve scooped it away first. "Give it to me! I ... you ... we need to call the nurse ...stupid doctors missed something ..."

"Hey ... Hey, Danno, no. Sit down," Steve said as he tucked the remote to his chest, batting Danny's hands away. "Danny? Sit down, buddy, before you fall down. I'm fine ... it's okay. I was just kidding."

Fingers wrapped around Steve's wrist, Danny froze where he was when Steve's voice managed to sink in through his fugue. He stopped himself then from trying to pry the bedside remote out of Steve's hands.

"What?" Danny whispered, stunned to his core. "Steve? W-what the hell?" He swiped at his eyes to be sure. But the stern expression was gone from Steve's face, as was the haughty coldness. Instead, Steve's eyes were clear, their hazel-blue, a vivid color and lame as it was, Steve was trying to smile. The change was startling despite the way his bruised cheek wouldn't totally cooperate and Danny's mouth gaped wide for a second before he barked out another sharp laugh.

"You rat bastard," Danny choked out in disbelief. "This is funny to you?" There was a long pause as they regarded each other and Steve openly winced when Danny failed at stifling an odd sound which was still just a bit too sharp. Danny shook his head as that need to giggle tightened his chest. He was over-tired and stressed. He knew that but nonetheless, he couldn't stop the chuckle which sparked a surge of tears to cloud his vision.

"You're _fine_?" He managed to ask before the giggles started in earnest. He gestured towards Steve's head, the purpling discoloration along his cheek. "Brain d-damaged is m-more like it." Danny snorted as he glared into Steve's eyes. For a minute he wanted to punch his friend square in the face, instead he could only try to stifle what threatened to become a noisy, hysterical outburst.

"Too soon, _huh_?" Steve whispered as a tear cut loose to roll down Danny's cheek and Danny swiped at it with his hand. "Sorry ... you know ... I just thought..." His voice dwindled away when Danny held his hand up high, a clear signal that Steve stop speaking.

" _Palmy?_ Palmy ... my ass. What kind of word is that? And no. _No_ I didn't see it. I didn't see _anything_! And as far as Charlie goes? He's six, Steven. _Six_!" Danny pushed out breathlessly, oddly satisfied when Steve appeared to be absolutely and utterly confused. He stumbled a step or two backwards then, collapsing with a thump into the chair he'd practically been living in for over seventy-two hours.

"I got him that damned bike almost two years ago ... and it's midnight black. Not blue ... and he's gonna need another new one already since he's growing like a damned weed," Danny mumbled after he dropped his head tiredly into his hands. He bit his lip in a vain attempt to stay quiet. "Brain damaged Neanderthal ... how can this be my life? _Huh_? How?" If he didn't look at his partner's bruised face, maybe he'd lose the urge to laugh like a loon.

"Danno?" Steve was still confused by the tone of his voice alone, and Danny chortled stupidly through his fingers because it wasn't working. Not looking wasn't going to do a damned thing. He was gong to laugh whether he wanted to or not.

"Steve? _Please_ ... just ... just _shut up._ "

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	29. Chapter 29 - Kismet

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _Word of the Day was from a few days ago, but it stuck with me and deserved a story of its own. It took a while for the muse to be engaged by a word of the day, too. I hope you all enjoy this one. Happy spring even if it is snowing here in NY!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 ** _Word of the Day:_ Kismet - **_fate_

The small plane had gone down in the Kalalau Valley on Kauai, miles from where they'd been scheduled to land. But the storm had come out of nowhere, pushing them far off course and battering the small plane like the proverbial tin can it was. In a perfect scenario, if ever one existed when it came to this kind of thing, they should have stayed with the wreckage and awaited rescue. He should have tried to get the pilot and co-pilot out. He should have at least checked Agent Carmichael's pulse even if the awkward bend of the man's neck was enough proof. But he did none of those things. Danny'd been forced to make a decision by the frightening reality of an explosion as the dire scent of an electrical fire wafted through the damaged cabin. Grunting in pain and ignoring a sickly body-wide ache, he'd dragged himself out only vaguely aware enough to keep his fingers wrapped around Hank Stanton's orange jumpsuit.

 _"G'out,'_ he'd demanded of the felon as acrid smoke made him start to gag. _"Fire. Hurry ...g'na blow."_

Stanton had followed on his knees, best as he could with his hands still cuffed and shackled to the belt wrapped around his waist, until they'd just about cleared the worst of the wreckage. Then, they had been up and leaning on each other in an ungainly shuffled-stumble as the fire had broken out in earnest.

Hank was gone now though. Babbling in hysterics after the plane had indeed exploded in a crescendo of yellowed-orangey flames despite the unrelenting rain falling from the sky, at first Danny hadn't understood the man's words. Evidently though, if Danny loathed small spaces, Stanton had been afraid to fly. The crash had been his worst nightmare come true and the explosion which had thrown bits of metallic debris at them had only exacerbated his personal beliefs that the sky was falling.

 _The devil had been there ... beckoning. Kismet. Fate. Cursed. He'd been cursed to hell for all his misdeeds._ Still cuffed, he'd broken away and lurched sideways, tripping over his manacled feet, towards a treacherous rocky drop.

The beach had been far, far below a rocky, craggy out-cropping. Danny remembered the hectic rush of blue, white, brown and even green as it all blurred together right before impact. Hundreds of feet below, the ocean crashed against volcanic cliff-walls. The drop would be deadly and Danny remembered wanting to do more to prevent Hank from the unthinkable in his panic. But he'd failed.

" _Stop_. _Hank ... stop."_ Even if he'd lacked conviction, Danny thought he'd at least said those words as he'd registered the distant sounds of crashing waves.

But Hank had taken one step backwards and then, simply disappeared. The felon had been there and then suddenly he'd blinked from sight as if he'd never even existed. Danny had stood in silence, the remnants of the plane burning brightly off to his right, shell-shocked and confused until he'd simply turned away, unfeeling, unempathetic and not knowing that he too was in a state of shock.

"Steve?" Danny whispered without knowing why as he walked along in the cooler white mist which the rain had left behind. "Steve?"

It was dark now and he'd lost track of time and place. The mist was disturbing and clung to him like a veil. He shivered and felt an eerie, other-worldly chill as wispy fingers caressed his wet skin. Nonetheless, he pushed himself forward partially lost in thought and yet, moving with a calculated intensity. It was pitch, well past midnight, and he could barely see his hand in front of his own face. What he was doing was dangerous, walking at night like this on narrow, slick trails. It didn't matter though; he needed to keep moving. Steve would want him to.

 _"That's my boy,"_ Steve's voice suddenly whispered in his ear, egging him on and providing the affirmation he needed. _"Keep moving. But be careful ... take your time."_

"And you'll come for me," Danny rasped brokenly as he held this one-sided conversation with himself. "You'll find me."

 _"I'm almost there now, Danno,"_ Steve promised. _"Hang on ... find water ... find the stream and follow it down."_

"Down. Yeah," Danny agreed. "To the beach ... you always said that."

Steve sighed in appreciation inside his head and Danny kept going, calling upon the various things Steve had prattled on about during the many times they'd gone hiking. Even battered and in shock, Danny was impressed with himself for remembering the wise words even if it was an inner-Steve providing him with a non-stop commentary of instruction.

His shivering increased as he slid along moss-covered rocks and thick, muddy debris. He slipped badly at one point, the thin leather soles of his shoes no match for the rough terrain. He fell heavily onto his hands and knees where he stayed for a while, rocking back and forth, head bowed and panting. There was a pain in his side and a deeper ache in his gut. His throat was parched and he gave out with a ragged cough, groaning as his stomach seized.

He didn't know if he should drink, but he wanted to; desperately. "Steve ... thirsty," he whispered. "W-what do I do? _Huh_? W-what?"

 _"It just rained, buddy,"_ Steve whispered with a sly laugh in his tone. _"You've got all the water you need. Open your eyes ... think."_

The imaginary eye-roll he heard in that voice made Danny snort noisily through his nose as he fought hard not to laugh at himself. He couldn't afford to laugh just yet. He was afraid to wake up that knife-like pain in his chest which was bad enough as he stayed where he was on his hands and knees.

 _"Get up,"_ Steve urged him softly. _"You've got this."_

"Course I do," Danny said. He struggled back to his feet and took a tentative step forward slipping again and nearly falling for a second time until he found an iffy purchase against the heavy trunk of a tree. He closed his eyes, the dry whine in his throat a counterpoint to the cold wetness of his dress shirt. For a minute, Danny thought about sucking the moisture from the material. Maybe that's what his inner-Steve was trying to tell him. But then he brushed against a wall of thick, water-soaked leaves and water seemed to stream from them in a thin cascade to wrap around his wrist.

" _See_?" Steve whispered triumphantly as Danny fell back down to his knees. _"You can drink that ... it's safe. Fresh rainwater that's all."_

"Okay," Danny said trustingly. Hands shaking and being as careful as possible, Danny cupped the broad leaves together to make a funnel and leaned forward. He coughed and choked as that thin river of water ran into his mouth tasting earthy enough to make him wonder just how many tiny bugs he'd just ingested. Nevertheless, he worked his way through the outer layering of leaves after that, not really having his fill but at least finding enough moisture to quench the worst of his thirst.

"Steve," Danny muttered as he willed his legs to move. There's been no sign of a stream and he was walking blind. Suppose he was wrong? Suppose he couldn't find his way down?

 _"I'm coming,"_ Steve whispered. " _I can't see you while you're so deep in the jungle ... find the stream, Danno. Find it ... find it and go down ... I need you on the beach where I can see you. Where you can signal me so that I can find you, buddy."_

Danny nodded in the dark as he continued to pick his way down badly eroded trails which could be nothing more than swales made by miniature mud-slides. The going was difficult and Danny was slowly losing his wherewithal to continue despite the goading tone his partner had adopted inside his head. The realities of his injuries were winning out to his inner-Steve and Danny nearly sobbed in frustration when he fell again, this time harder than before. He slid a good distance on his side, coming up short against a rock and rapping his head hard.

"I can't ... I can't do this," he complained when Steve's voice deserted him completely, leaving him alone except for the deafening sound of the coqui. He hurt _badly_ and was growing more and more sickish from the pain and exhaustion. This last tumble had left him breathless and desolate and Danny lay where he was on his side. He closed his eyes as his muscles seized and trembled all at once, giving in to an occasional pained moan. He was done in and out of his element. Except he heard it then as his loud juddering of his breathing eased up. Just on the fringes of his awareness, Danny heard the brighter undertone of a steadier, white noise.

Water. A stream? Maybe even a short-lived waterfall brought on by the rainy deluge. Did it matter if it led down to the beach? Danny weakly forced himself up, leaving the milky fog behind as he descended in an awkward rush of flailing legs and arms, stopping an all out tumble by mere inches only by grabbing onto saplings, green twigs and branches. But then, there it was. The narrow falls were no more than three or four feet wide in places and not deep at all but it was very real and heading downwards at a startling pace.

 _"Be careful,"_ Steve's voice warned him. _"Rocks are slick ... but this will bottom out on the beach."_ Danny chuckled ruefully at the unexpected return as he wedged his elbow into his side where he was beginning to hurt the most.

"So now you're back?" Danny asked ruefully. "Helluva time ... " He stopped talking when the tonal thump settled in the base of his ears. Rhythmic and yet distant, the sound was unmistakable. It seemed to dwell closer and then focus solely down by the rocky beach and Danny felt a pang of anticipation push some of his fatigue to the side.

 _Helicopter_. Steve had arrived ... he'd really shown up as he'd promised and Danny was in a panic as he aimed himself faster down the slick slope. He slid hard, barking his shins and straining the deep pain in his side until he felt a warmth seeping unnaturally into the material of his shirt.

"Steve ... I'll ... I...," Danny stammered over his own tongue. _Wait for him._ He wanted to say that as stress made his head throb and he realized that the sun was starting to come up on the horizon. Just how long had he been battling the jungle? Had he really been on the move the entire night?

He shifted his legs, trying to gain his footing, bewildered when nothing much happened beyond a trembling twitch or two. His muscles were taxed to their limits and he groaned his distress, his hands shaking as tried to pull himself up by using what seemed to be a convenient vine.

 _"No stop! I need you to hide,"_ Steve suddenly barked in his head. _"It's not me ... they're looking for survivors. They came in off the beach and they want Stanton. So, hide. Now!"_

Brought up short, Danny sat down again and then slid on his butt another four or five feet. He could hear the chopper and also the waves hitting the shoreline. Both were so, so close.

"Hide?" He asked, feeling numb. Steve couldn't be serious. "But .."

 _"Trust me, Danno,"_ Steve whispered. _"Get out of there!"_

For a long moment, Danny blinked dumbly, doubting that inner voice. Where was he supposed to go anyway? But then he was moving, squirreling away from the stream on his belly into deeper undergrowth until he found a small rocky overhang. Somewhat hidden by a large fern, he looked under the slab of rock and into the narrow black maw. He couldn't fit in there ... Steve couldn't possibly expect him to fit in there?

Danny shivered in disgust and maybe even fear. Suppose it was weakened from the rain and he was buried alive? Or _crushed_ ... or ... he couldn't fit in there if he tried ... _and_ snakes or ... _spiders_. Hawaii had some nasty bugs ... big ones ...

 _"Danny! Get the hell in there!_ " Steve's voice hissed at him in anger as he hesitated a millisecond before he heard the voices. Danny jolted in fear as he gave pause to listen, wanting to be sure. Shouting back and forth in Spanish, there were two or three in the small entourage.

Danny did what he was told then, clawing at the sodden earth with his hands to pull himself into the hole where he lay flat on his stomach only slightly appeased when he could worm around to face outwards. The fern covered much of his view. But even with facing the outside, the rock pressed dangerously into his back and he had to pull his legs painfully up to nearly touch his chest. The space was smaller than that of the trunk of his car and Danny began to hyperventilate.

 _"You're fine,"_ Steve whispered inside his head. _"Breathe ... in and out ... slowly. Quietly, buddy. They're almost on top of you. Please ... please just relax."_

Danny stilled as the voices came closer and he could make out individual words, his internal sense of panic warring with a more tangible danger.

" _Steady_ ," Steve whispered softly as Danny spied the outline of a man's head through the soft feathered leaves of the fern. Danny didn't dare move as the men seemed to circle his hiding place. They were much too close and he was sure that they'd be able to hear how his heart was thudding or the way he was fighting to barely breathe. He was positive until one gave the command to move on, the other two following at a careful pace for the slick surface.

Danny closed his eyes when the voices dimmed to nothing and eventually out of hearing range. He rocked his forehead on his arm and sighed into the damp earth. Wracked with fatigue, he began to drift despite inner-Steve's anxious proddings which eventually became more vehement.

 _"GET UP!"_ Steve shouted in his ear. _"Danno ... get moving ... signal me in! I need to know where you are ... I can't take the chance!"_

Danny didn't know what Steve was talking about when it came to chances. He'd taken so many himself since crashing, he wanted to laugh at the oddity of the demands.

 _"Daniel!"_ Steve snapped inside his head and Danny forced himself to find reserves he thought long gone. The effort to move was Herculean at best but he did extricate himself the same way he'd gone into the small cave - on his belly. He made the beach without knowing how he did it only to look up into the pre dawn sky to see not one but two helicopters bearing down on the crash site high above where he was now standing.

He marveled at how far he'd come through the night as he watched the two machines approach. The one in the lead would be Steve's. Danny knew that without a doubt as it barreled ahead, the sun gleaming off a dark blue shell.

He foolishly raised a hand to signal Steve in - to let him know where he was on the beach when a third suddenly appeared and Danny's mouth gaped wide. The Columbians were coming in to attack from the top of the mountain - from the crash site itself and rising with a hated vengeance.

Helpless but to watch, Danny stood on the beach as the most unlikeliest of fire-fights began. He flinched at the delayed report of gunfire whose rat-a-tat reached him many seconds after its reality. His eyes were glued to that lead chopper as it dipped or banked at incredible angles. He watched until the dog fight became a chase when a plume of smoke appeared as a smudge against the sunrise.

Danny blinked as the sun rose more, blinding him and obscuring his vision. He blinked again, his eyes tearing up from the strain, searching now to find what he thought was Steve's chopper. But they'd disappeared as quickly as they'd come and Danny gasped out loud. He wobbled dangerously, searching the skies and listening hard before falling weakly to his knees. He bowed his head, letting his chin sink to his chest not knowing what to do until a tonal _thwump-thwump-thwump_ settled in the base of his ears. At least one bird was coming back.

He had nothing left but chance as he pulled his badge out from his pocket and flipped the small leather case open. He was supposed to signal Steve in and this was all he had to do it with. Staring at his badge and taking a moment to trace its outline with a dirt-encrusted finger, Danny thought about Hank Stanton and the felon's crazed shouts before jumping away from him.

 _Kismet. Fate._

He glanced again towards the chopper which was slowly circling up high and beginning what looked like a search pattern. Was this mere chance like his negative mind was wont to blame, or was it really fate?

Hands shaking and still on his knees, Danny held his badge up towards the sun and angled it until it caught the rays. Gold to gold, the reflection was brighter than he thought possible and Danny canted his badge even more, taking satisfaction as the warm gleam made him squint.

Eyes tearing, Danny smiled as the chopper seemed to hesitate in its methodical search. It turned his way and then paused entirely, hovering, checking him out. Wanting to be sure before diving his way like a bird of prey. Danny never flinched though. Not even when it circled him twice, far too fast for him to be sure Steve was piloting the thing.

But Danny _knew_ ... he knew before Steve had found a decent place to land on the rocky shoreline. Danny knew as he watched Steve jump out of the idling bird and begin an errant, wild run towards him, shouting his name at the top of his lungs.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	30. Chapter 30 - Kismet 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _due to popular demand ... not one final chapter though ... the breakfast bunny didn't want to jump to the rescue and I don't argue anymore. And while I do love Tani and Junior, I've not committed to writing them just yet. I've got to learn them a bit more and ease in to the concept. The original team is still being referred to here._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 ** _Word of the Day:_** **Kismet -** _fate_

They'd refueled twice along the way determined to search and then rescue - not recover - that meant something entirely different. A bad place where Steve refused to go inside his head. So, this was their third trip out in yet another direction, but one that he knew would be successful. Steve felt it as they bore down on the shores of Kauai. He could see the white caps breaking on the rough shoreline and the outline of high rides. He knew it was right because he was no longer flying by the seat of the pants. _Because_ as dawn had approached and the worst of the storm had lifted, they'd gotten a signal. A faint, intermittent chime. The tiniest of beacons and it was enough to send them all back into the air. On no sleep and too much black coffee, Steve had gone straight up into the air with the rest of his team in tow, and out towards the Kalalau Valley over on Kauai. This time he had a purpose and a location to backup his ominous premonition.

But if they'd recognized the weak signal, then so had others and the Columbians had a vested interest in getting to Stanton first.

"Come on. Come on ... this is taking too long ...," Steve complained incessantly as he simultaneously searched the dark skies, listened to the radio chatter from ground control and checked the readings on the chopper's many dials. Under it all he was dwelling on personal fears which were refusing to stay at bay. A strange foreboding had pulled at him from the very start of this short operation. He'd been unsettled and snappish from day one, setting a poor example with Agents Simms and Carmichael which he seemed incapable of fixing. And Steve didn't know why. He couldn't explain himself and he could never quite put his finger on what was so very wrong or bothering him about the two agents and this particular mission. But that foreboding wouldn't leave him alone and had only worsened when Danny had so very calmly decided to participate in the final leg of the transfer.

For yet another reason which he couldn't seem to verbalize, Steve had adamantly rejected Danny's decision to go. And Danny? He'd literally bent over at the waist, mockingly incredulous, hands buried deep in his pockets... and then, he'd had the gall to _laugh_ in Steve's face because someone had to go! And if Steve thought that _he_ would be going after alienating both agents? Well, good luck with that! In the caustic tone that only Danny could adopt, he then informed Steve that Steve would have needed to pack a parachute for the mutiny which he'd cause mid-transfer. Danny's condescension had taken new heights then. Begging off that he didn't need to train-in another psycho partner or explain more than he had to already to the Governor about Steve's penchant to antagonize Simms and Carmichael, Danny had gently patted Steve on the arm, stated all of those facts, and gone off with Carmichael as the unlikely balm to smooth ruffled feathers.

"This was why," Steve muttered to himself as he was shaken by a terrible sense of déjà vu while piloting the chopper - that feeling of foreboding had been more a premonition - and this was precisely why Steve had been so against the damned mission from the word go. He briefly closed his eyes replaying the angry words he'd shared with Carmichael's partner when the small plane had dropped off radar; he'd nearly lost his mind at that point.

 _"What do you mean it dropped out of sight?"_ Steve had ground out from between clenched teeth. He'd glared at Simms, fists clenched, completely unaffected by the man's equally defensive attitude. He distinctly remembered wanting to put his fist through the man's pudgy face. In fact, he still wanted to do that ... might even do it ... _after_. After he found everyone and made sure his partner was in one, whole piece because if Danny wasn't ... and Steve shook his head forcing that dire thought away but then automatically falling back to Simms' arrogant posturing.

 _"Just what I said, McGarrett,"_ Simms had replied. He'd folded his arms sternly over his chest as if he'd thought Steve his subordinate. _"Calm down. It's probably a glitch with the GPS ... a little interface because of the weather ... I wouldn't ..."_

Calm down? _Definitely not_. A glitch? _Maybe_. If things hadn't felt so damnably wrong since they'd met the Agents and heard about Henry Stanton, then maybe Steve might have bought it. But Steve wasn't buying and he had zero intention of being calm. Lou Grover had been the only thing at that point preventing Steve from ripping the agent's arms off his body. So if he couldn't wipe the floor with Simms, he just wanted to find his partner and bring him home.

He scarcely noticed the turbulent air now as he argued his emotions and relied on his trained-in skills to make corrections to keep the bird aloft. Something which couldn't be said for either Lou or Kono as each reacted to every dip or unexpected bumpy dive; especially Lou who was no longer trying to hold back the volume of his cursed complaints. But Steve completely ignored Lou's muffled curses along with the white-knuckled grip as he rode shotgun. Even Kono's occasional query from the rear went unanswered about their heading and if they might be going down an aerial goat path despite the exciting blip. Behind them, in a second HPD helicopter, Chin was covering their six. If he was wrong, then they'd all be wrong together. But he _wasn't_ wrong; Steve knew the heading was right. He knew the signal was valid and he knew that Danny would be at the other end.

"Eight minutes out," he announced. "Stay alert."

His eyes narrowed as he checked the horizon looking for signs of trouble. While Kono's questions had gone unanswered, Steve was admittedly internalizing some of the very same doubts and concerns. In fact, he fully anticipated having to confront Sanchez's crew. If their tower had identified the signal from the plane's black box, then so had _Sanchez_ and he'd also have already scrambled his people to act. In all likelihood, they'd be converging at the same location, practically at the same time. Steve's stomach tightened when he thought he spied a small glint off his starboard heading. A flash of light which could easily be that of another plane or helicopter. Whatever it was, it was the right size and altitude and following a similar tactical heading but miles ahead of them.

"God, Danny ... be careful ... it's not me, buddy," Steve chanted repeatedly under his breath as he saw the glint of metal in the sky again. _Sanchez_. No one else but him would be out after such a storm and as he relayed his questions about potentially approved other flights back to base, they too confirmed no one else was anticipated to be in that area. No clearances had been granted, no other flight requests had been filed that morning; other than the Coast Guard, only Steve and his team should be there.

"It's not me," Steve whispered desperately as the metallic gleam blinked out behind the grayish waft of a storm cloud. "Stay low, buddy." The blatant truth though was that Danny might think any sound of life was of the good kind after the freak storm. He could be hurt ... _was likely hurt_ ... and potentially desperate with so much time having elapsed. Sanchez's men could easily get there before Steve did and Danny would need to hide. Go to ground and not do the opposite more logical thing of seeking help if he was even thinking clearly. Steve shook his head, his eyes dark with emotion. He'd be no match for whatever team Sanchez had sent and Steve flew just a little more aggressively despite the buffeting winds.

"I'm almost there ... _almost_. Just hang in for me ... hang in, buddy, and be careful," Steve muttered as he stupidly tried to convince himself it wasn't the Columbians at all.

"Four minutes," Steve reported, fidgeting in the pilot's seat as they bore down on the plane's now much stronger signal. _This was right_ , he could feel it. Danny was there and waiting for him. But hours had gone by. An evening had elapsed and then the full turn of a terrible, stormy night without much protection from the elements. No food or water. Limited medical supplies, if any.

"Almost there, Danno," Steve whispered again, uncaring that Lou had definitely heard him that time. But then they were there and when Steve saw it first, his hands literally juddered on the stick. The twisted metal was catching the glean of the sunrise and the blackened furrows which marred the crash site looked like jagged claw-marks made by some enormous prehistoric creature. The fact that the plane had been engulfed in flames wasn't lost on him.

 _No one could have survived._

"Boss, no one ..." Kono's voice trailed off to a soft whisper. "I mean ... _God_."

"He's alive," Steve stated flatly, his voice remarkably steady even if he felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. Steve _knew_ while she was absolutely right, it just didn't need saying out loud and she sensed her error instantly. But no one could have survived the crash and resultant fire. Based on the wreckage left, the thing had gone up in flames. There was practically nothing left and with so many hours having gone by through the chill of a rainstorm, the wreckage wasn't even smoldering anymore.

"Steve? What the hell is that?" Lou choked out suddenly. He was peering downwards using high-powered binoculars. "Four o'clock. Beach level." His tone said he was stunned and when Steve looked down to where the older man was pointing, his own eyes widened in disbelief at the streak of orange material stark against the wet volcanic rock. The fact that they were spying the orange of a prison jumpsuit was irrefutable and Steve swallowed hard. He didn't need binoculars to know what or who it was.

"Stanton," he confirmed, not really caring as he pointed the nose of the chopper upwards, back towards the wreckage. "I don't know, Lou ... maybe, he just ... _fell_?"

"Maybe ... I guess," Lou replied equally distracted as he scoured the cliffs and beach. He was biting his lip and refusing to say more as he searched in vain for signs of life and then muttering about the other bird they might have seen.

"Gimme a sign, Danny," Steve whispered, his lips barely moving. He was desperate as he searched the crash site, the rocky ledges of the cliff below and then beyond into the black depths of the jungle. His attention was split between that search and listening to Lou and his team, their ongoing chatter as they followed his lead but also stayed alert for any signs of Sanchez's men.

"Come on ... you're here, I know it ... where though?" Steve murmured softly. "Danny ... _please_ ... where the hell are you? You have to be here."

 _"Steve! Twelve o'clock ... coming in high!"_ The alarmed chatter in his ear - Chin's voice - brought Steve's focus back sharply. His eyes darted up and Steve was reacting on instinct to evade the third helicopter which was now boldly confronting them.

"Boss! _Watch out!"_ Kono yelled as they were instantly fired upon.

"Got it! Take 'em down, Kono! Lou!" Steve demanded coldly as his defensive evasion changed to offensive action knowing the pilot of Chin's bird would do the same.

"Take 'em down, people, _now_!" Steve shouted as he aimed the nose of his bird directly at the opposing force despite the metallic splatter of bullets hitting their skids and a portion of their tail. Next to him, Lou cursed again but held his ground, returning fire as aggressively as Kono was from the rear. There was another blast of hot exchange and then a fiercely delighted sound of success from Kono as the Columbians' chopper began to waver alarmingly in the air. Steve sneered dangerously as it was made clear who the better pilot was and he forced the Columbians back, then sideways at an alarming angle. Their only recourse now was to flee when the sparks and a puff of black smoke appeared, with Steve directly on their heels.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	31. Chapter 31 - Kismet 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _I KNOW ... but what can I say?! It's NOT the end yet again. Sheesh! The muse gets 'pressured' and one chapter turns into three ... maybe four ... one word = one chapter. *shakes head*_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 ** _Word of the Day:_** **Kismet -** _fate_

Steve left Chin to corral what remained of the Columbians after literally forcing their helicopter down in an intense game of ' _chicken_ '. He'd also landed long enough for Kono to backup that team on the ground. After dropping her off and regaining some altitude, Steve had then taken a brief tongue-lashing from Lou for the manner in which he'd orchestrated just about everything. Unfortunately for Lou, Steve was far from remorseful though. More crash than landing on the part of the Columbians, Steve could agree that he'd taken a terrible chance in getting the job done; but it needed doing. He might even agree that only his skillful flying and no small amount of divine luck had kept them from meeting the same fate as the Columbians rather hard ' _landing_ '. But in the end, things had worked out Steve's way when three of the Columbian's had tumbled out of their dying bird on their hands and knees just as the sparks ignited to become actual flickers of flame. Within seconds, the smoke which had been billowing outside the hull, thickened sickeningly to take over the helicopter's small cabin. The acrid smoke quickly overcame whomever remained inside. Somewhere in the back of his head, Steve remembered to be thoughtful enough that one of the men was the Columbian pilot.

"You good?" Steve asked Chin as he watched from above and ignored another long-suffering sigh from Lou.

 _"We got this, Steve,"_ Chin confirmed from the ground. _"Go find him. He's got to be here, right?"_

Steve concurred and was thankful to Chin for expressing such optimism about finding Danny. It was no lie that he was itching to leave and do just that; but Steve held firm to remain hovering closely overhead, Lou offering added fire-power until he was absolutely certain that his people were indeed in command of the situation. Only then did Steve turn back towards what was left of the small plane to begin what would be a studious and careful search pattern of the area.

Glancing down one last time as he lifted his chopper higher, Steve spied Chin on the ground, one hand raised in brief acknowledgement.

 _"He's here."_ His friend's voice echoed through Steve's earpiece again as a far softer version of what it had been during the fire-fight and Steve nodded, knowing that Chin couldn't see him but suddenly not trusting himself to speak. The words were heartfelt and Steve sucked in what should have been a calming breath of air, however it had the opposite affect on his emotions. None of this should have happened and Steve fell back on his original qualms about the mission ... about having allowed Danny to go in the first place.

"Yeah," Steve finally responded, his voice sounding tight and gruff. He blinked rapidly then as he rose higher still, blaming the way he was tearfully squinting on the brilliance of the dawn against the storm clouds and the way the sun was nearly blinding him as the dismal gray changed to a bright-white fluorescence. He lost his line of sight at that point, momentarily startled by the intensity of the sun combined with what sounded just like the whisper of his name.

 _"Steve ..."_

 _"Shit."_ Steve's voice cracked and his hand bobbled on the stick. The chopper reacted to his sloppy handling and jounced as Steve whipped his head around to stare questioningly at Lou. "You hear that?" Steve blurted, eyes wide, positive that he'd heard Danny.

"Uh, no?" Lou replied carefully. His own eyes were wide, but for an entirely different reason as he white-knuckled the inner rim of the cabin. "Hear what? Are you all right? You wanna just fly this tin can, _huh_?"

Steve opened his mouth, but was unable to reply. He jerked a nod that he was indeed fine but Lou snorted in disgust, his expression saying otherwise. It was more than evident that the older man was now concerned for _him_ and his general state of mind. Steve knew he should say something to argue and yet failed miserably which only compounded things. Instead, Steve shook his head again and quickly looked away, studiously forcing himself to adopt a controlled search pattern as they made the heights to look down onto the small plane's crash site. His hands were shaking though and inside, he was rattled and confused. Knowing that Lou was still looking at him, too, certainly wasn't helping matters.

 _But ... what had he just heard? Rather ... who?_

Steve looked beyond Lou and then farther still into the jungle until something ... _a feeling_ ... made him look towards his far port side, away from the crash site and down. He shivered and then his vision briefly dimmed. _Something - someone - was there._ Down towards the beach-head where the jungle ended and a rocky out-cropping began to jut sharply into the ocean. He paused and then frowned, thinking hard, eyes barely open.

"Steve? You sure, you're all right?" Lou asked as Steve faltered to nearly a stop, hovering in place and progressing neither forward nor adopting a new heading. The feeling intensified and Steve held his breath, thinking ... searching.

"He's there ...," Steve muttered more to himself than to anyone else as his eyes scoured the shoreline. As he searched, the sun rose higher and brighter, its rays stretching down the beach, pushing the shadows back off the black of the rocks. The reflection was nearly instantaneous then and Steve felt a jolt run through his hands as if he'd been electrified. Gold, white, gold. The colors flickered but their intensity only increased. When the reflection deepened to gold and then brightened to a yellowish-white, shining directly into his eyes, Steve knew.

"Danny," he blurted, his hand shaking as he pointed down towards the spot. "Danny ... he's there ... he's down _there_ on the rocks."

"Wait! What ... where?" Lou demanded, but he didn't need to know as Steve dropped the chopper at a dizzying rate. Gripping his chest with one hand, Lou grabbed for the chopper's ceiling with the other, hoping to brace himself against the negative G's. " _Shit_! McGarrett! What the hell are you doing?!"

Steve didn't hear the shocked reprimand though; he didn't feel the affects of the downwards trajectory. He was fixated on a tiny spot which grew in detail as he carefully but determinedly flew closer and saw that it was indeed Danny. On his knees in a field of volcanic rock, sun now dotting his body, Danny's hands were cupped around a small, glistening object.

 _He was there_ ... on the beach ... _alive and whole._

"How in the hell did you see him?" Lou asked in astonishment as they were forced to do another fly-over due to competing off-shore winds and the need for Steve to find an option to land.

"Why isn't he moving?" Steve asked worriedly as he finally put the chopper down on the best of all the poor options. "What's he doing? Why isn't he moving?" The questions flew out of his mouth, one after the other as he kept glancing over his shoulder, his worry growing, as he hastily unbuckled his harness and jumped onto the rocks. Despite having landed, Danny hadn't gotten up from where he was kneeling ... he wasn't doing a damned thing even though Steve was positive that Danny knew it was him. Without waiting for Lou, Steve slipped from the chopper only ducking down from the rotors out of habit. He picked his way quickly over the slick rocks, leaving Lou far behind to negotiate the path on his own.

"Danny ... _Danny_?" Steve exclaimed anxiously as he dropped to his knees in front of his partner. "Hey ... hey, Danny?" Steve's voice fled him as he raised his hands in askance, stunned by the sight of his best friend, not knowing where it might be okay to touch him. Not believing that he actually even _could_. Under the caked mud streaked with blood, Danny was nearly unrecognizable but ... _alive_. Ever so gently and filled with an incomprehensible sense of disbelief, Steve grasped Danny's arms while glancing over his shoulder, up towards the heights where he knew the wreckage lay. Almost directly below were Stanton's grisly remains. The only things in-between were jungle and cliffs and Steve's head spun at the impossibility of it all because finding Danny _here_ made no sense.

"How the hell did you get down here?" He asked, terrified when he didn't get an immediate answer and for a brief moment, unsure about what to do next. "Danny? Can you hear me?" Steve questioned softly. Looking at his partner, Steve was beginning to understand why Danny hadn't even tried to greet him when he'd landed the chopper. How he'd even had the wherewithal to signal his location by thinking to use his badge was a miracle, too, because Danny was a mess from head to toe. Eyes glazed, his chin bobbing to touch his chest, he was barely tracking anything at all; Danny wasn't only exhausted and in pain, but looking like a shell-shocked victim of war.

"Steve...," Danny virtually mouthed his name, relieving Steve of some of his tension. Danny's head moved just a bit, his eyes squinting upwards by what seemed to be a monumental physical effort of will and of all things, he tried to smile.

"Hey buddy," Steve breathed out when Danny attempted to focus on his face. "How? Danny? How did you get down here?" He was incredulous as he studied Danny's strained expression. His thumbs were rubbing slow, methodical circles across Danny's arms. Distressed, Steve could feel the cold from Danny's still damp skin literally leeching into his hands. Injured, suffering from exposure, none of this was making any sense to Steve and for one horrifying moment, he wasn't sure it was real until Lou dropped next to them on his own knees.

"Danny," the big man said, his deeper voice a grounding force for Steve. "You ready to get off this lovely vacation spot for something more ... _amenable_ to creature comforts?"

Under his hands, Danny quivered and Steve heard the faintest of mocking snorts. _Danny agreed_ and Steve felt some more of his tension lessen. He almost smiled when he caught Lou's eye, except that the older man's expression was severe. Lou was as worried as Steve was about Danny's condition. And when Lou's mouth gaped open, nothing else forthcoming, it was easy enough for Steve to know that the same questions were tumbling endlessly through Lou's head, too.

 _Danny shouldn't be here._ Based on what he'd seen at the top of that ridge, finding Danny alive was nothing short of a miracle. _But here on the rocky beach, so far below the cliffs?_

"I'll be right back," Lou suddenly said. He thumbed over his shoulder back towards the chopper as he got to his feet. "He'll need some help ...but ... _here_ ..."

Then he was taking off his wind-breaker and wrapping it around Danny's shoulders. Lou didn't bother saying more as he walked away and Steve knew that he was going back for the portable stretcher. There was no conceivable way to carry Danny over the rocks; he was in no shape to stand up, let alone walk.

"You told me ... you told me ... to follow the stream," Danny suddenly whispered far too softly and matter-of-factly for Steve's liking. He cocked his head, squinting painfully into Steve's face, pausing between each word. "You told me ... so, I did."

"I- I _what ... I told you_?" Steve stammered before he gently moved Lou's jacket aside to lift the hem of Danny's shirt to eye the bloody gouge along Danny's rib-cage and the full extent of the bruising. Hissing softly through his teeth at the ragged amount of damage, Steve ran his fingers along Danny's ribs, across his sternum and then tested the tenderness of his abdomen. Under his gentle touch, Danny flinched and his already quiet voice faltered but he didn't pull away.

"Yeah, you told me ... you said ... follow the ... stream and ... wait," Danny murmured, his head bobbing dangerously now as the fight to keep his eyes opened increased exponentially. "So... so, yeah ... I did."

Steve paused completely in his quick ministrations to look into Danny's face which was ashen even under layers of dirt and grime. He cupped the side of Danny's head partly to support the way Danny was trembling and partly to covertly check for signs of a head injury. His face was as cold as the rest of his body. There were abrasions along his scalp line and one on his temple; but none looked signfiicant enough.

"You're going to be okay," Steve promised as he lowered the shirt and tucked Lou's jacket back around Danny's shoulders. "Just rest for now; let me do the work and we'll get you home." Gently, he ran his hands over Danny's arms, concerned as Danny quieted and closed his eyes. Suddenly, Steve's palm was virtually propping up the side of Danny's head as it lolled to the left.

"Danny! Whoa, hey! Where're you going on me, buddy? _Huh_?" Steve said in alarm. "Hey ... _nonono_... stay awake. Look at me all right?" He waited, heart in his mouth as he watched Danny fight to peel his eyes back open. The fight was soon to be lost for good though as Danny wavered on his knees, his body looking as if it was ready to collapse in upon itself.

"Easy, okay ... I've got you," Steve said as he scooped Danny's upper body into his chest. He pulled Lou's jacket tightly around to cover Danny's chest and upper body while he glanced towards the chopper to check on Lou's progress back. He was relieved to see that Lou was already well on his way back, portable stretcher in hand.

"Steve? I'm tired...," Danny mouthed softly, childlike and pleading as his head fell, pillowed onto Steve's shoulder. "F-feel sick." He was shivering almost non-stop and yet, he fell quiet, his breathing deepening and yet sounding more raspy than it ever should be.

"Easy buddy ... easy," Steve pleaded needing to bump Danny higher in his arms as he sank bonelessly against him, his hands now limp. "We're gonna get you home; I'm taking you home."

As he whispered to him, Steve watched as Danny's badge slid from his fingers, the gold still gleaming brightly in the stronger sun. A direct counterpoint to the deep black of the rocks they were balanced on. Steve's eyes filled with tears as he tucked Danny even closer to block the wind, Danny's head cupped to his chest, feeling almost helpless to do more as Lou snapped the stretcher open.

 _ **~ to be continued. ~**_


	32. Chapter 32 - Kismet 4

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _well, technically, this could end here. But I'm not sure it will ... ergo, the 'TBC' at the bottom. It may become THE END - but I'm giving it a day or two as there's a glimmer of something between Steve and Agent Simms percolating._

 _My thanks to Phoebe for reading and_ _vetting the chaos that is my brain .. :-)_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 ** _Word of the Day:_** **Kismet -** _fate_

 _Hank raised his hand to point accusingly into Danny's face, the silver ring of a handcuff around his wrist. He pointed at Danny as if the crash had been his fault. As if his fall from the cliffs had been his fault. Danny swallowed hard and shook his head. He'd done nothing wrong. He'd only done his job, but Hank continued to point towards him, the silver ring rocking slowly back and forth like a tiny pendulum. The metal was bent and Danny couldn't see the felon's other hand; he wondered where it had gone. Was it even still attached to the man's body?_

 _Danny's eyes flickered away from Hank and to the thing standing by his side. The thing was now smiling at him. A thin-lipped grin showing all its pointed teeth which would have been cartoonish - even clownish - if the thing hadn't whispered to him. "Do you believe in fate, Danno?"_

 _Then he was falling. He tumbled inside a cave, a speck of light just out of reach of his fingertips ... he fell and then ... never hit the ground while Hank screamed at him in anger. _

Danny's eyes snapped open, fearfully, even though he knew he'd been suffering through a nightmare, his body shuddering as it anticipated a reactive flare of pain from hitting a bottom which never materialized. Nevertheless, a very real sharp pain rippled clear through his mid-section as he clenched his muscles, believing he could actually get up. Danny groaned, his eyes still closed, still more asleep than awake, Cognizant only of pain. Almost instantly, he felt a hand on his arm.

"You're okay ... you're safe." Steve's voice finally made it over the resonating thud in his ears and Danny tried to relax, even if he couldn't quite combat the way his chest continued to ache. Saying that he was _sore_ wouldn't be an accurate enough word for how he was really feeling as he roused more, but not enough to fully make it out of a drug-induced twilight state; something which his doctors probably designed. Dragging in a careful breath, Danny vaguely wondered what he'd feel like if not for the warmth of the drugs pulsing through his veins because, in all honestly, they were barely working.

"Steve...," Danny whispered hoarsely as he fought through the thickness in his head, more aware now that, not only was he in a lot of pain, he was also shivering so badly that his teeth were just about clacking.

"I know. You're going to be okay though ... easy, buddy." Steve's voice lingered closely overhead, reading his mind and cutting to the chase of how Danny might be feeling, the warmth of his hand still on his arm. "It's ... you've been sick... bad infection, but you're going to be all right."

He should have found comfort in that, but Danny didn't like Steve's tone or the way he nearly stammered. If Steve could read him, then Danny could do the same and Steve was far too calm; much too quiet. Coming from Steve, _quiet_ usually meant the man was worried and _calm_ always meant that his friend felt helpless. As for the stammering? That was a new tic and Danny wasn't sure what to think of it.

"You're fine. Just a bad dream." That same quiet tone fell like a blanket over him, but it wasn't entirely true. Danny wasn't _fine_ and the dream? It was more of a terrifying nightmare spawned by some kind of prior truth. Besides, Danny knew this had all happened before. It was an excruciating challenge, but he wearily peeled his eyes open and searched the space in front of him, looking to match the man to the voice, Danny knew that he'd never managed to open his eyes to see his friend's face like he did now. Shivering from fever, Danny watched Steve breathe in deeply, expelling the breath he'd held, soft and long. Steve wasn't really looking at him though. He was staring blindly down at the floor, his expression, one of sad resignation while he gripped Danny's wrist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the pressure point. He was on automatic pilot, whispering the same few words, nonstop.

Danny blinked a few times vainly trying to clear his vision and focus, all the while staring at the hazy outline of Steve's profile. It was dim in the room, maybe even very late at night with a brighter light leaking in from the hallway behind Steve's head. The time didn't matter; nor did the place. Steve was always there. In Danny's head, coaching him along, and now here ... simply waiting. Running interference. Standing guard. Probably feeling responsible for what had happened even if he'd nothing to do with the Columbians or the crash at all.

An unconscious sigh escaped Danny's lips. His fingers twitched on their own and all of that was enough for Steve to sense the change in atmosphere and he finally looked up, meeting Danny's eyes. Steve's astonishment at finding Danny awake was evident as his fingers tightened on his wrist. Nevertheless, _this had happened before_ and Danny tried hard to study Steve's pensive expression.

"Bad dream," Steve offered. He waited calmly to see if Danny would answer, but his shoulders were tight and square. Steve's careful handling of his waking wasn't lost on Danny. It was as if Steve didn't quite believe that Danny was awake. Or maybe, since this had happened before, Danny's ability to converse had been rather compromised. But this time, Danny was a bit more grounded and Steve seemed to relax when Danny nodded.

"Yeah, bad dream," Danny whispered. "It was ..." He blinked, distracted enough to stop trying to talk as some of it came back to him. Admittedly it was only a few minutes old, but Danny was surprised by what he was remembering of the dream. Then again, what was coming to mind seemed more real than nightmare and Danny shuddered as he remembered the violence of the crash. Carmichael's broken neck ... and _Hank_.

 _It was Hank_.

His panicked cries about fate ... kismet and curses. The way he'd almost accepted the fact that he was going to die that day. He hadn't made a sound when he'd fallen off the cliff. The gaping maw of the _thing_ \- which Danny could never hope to describe was part and parcel of the nightmare. Yet Hank had surely fallen to his death. Steve's voice? Danny scowled at that because he wasn't sure. Now though, Steve was right there with him, just like he'd been before, the last time he'd woken. Danny had a faint recollection of his friend standing much as he was now, offering platitudes about bad dreams and nightmares. Soothing Danny's fevered ramblings and talking to doctors, managing his care. And for whatever reason, Danny suddenly found that as ... _funny_ and he snorted sloppily through his nose wondering if he was still so badly fevered that he might have lost his mind.

Kismet and curses. _Of course_ ... and Danny choked around an accidental smile when his bruised chest seized. Gasping in reactive pain, Danny shook his head as tears sprang to his eyes.

"Danny? What's wrong?" Steve asked as he scrambled to his feet, his concern escalating at the same time. "Danny ... talk to me ... what's wrong?" Fear on the rise, Steve was already buzzing for a nurse, his fingers like a vise on Danny's wrist.

Nothing was really wrong though as Danny fought to calm himself, equally helpless to prevent Steve from over-reacting. It was only that he'd realized something in his vague mental state: Steve was his kismet and his friend's worried calls to him now, asking if he was all right, only made Danny want to laugh more, but he didn't dare.

"Danny ... what's wrong?," Steve asked again as he watched Danny struggle to catch his breath, the fingers of his left hand mired in the material of his hospital gown near his abdomen where the pain was the worst.

"Commander?" The new voice authoritative, professionally cool, nonetheless friendly and Danny argued his body to see the nurse. "Is something wrong with Detective Williams? What's been happening?"

"I'm not sure what happened to him ... he woke up. He seemed okay," Steve explained, the stammering back in full swing. "But now. He's ... something hurts ... his side, maybe. Where he was cut in the crash. The infection ... maybe ... I don't know ... maybe it's the drain?"

Danny heard Steve inhale sharply before he stepped aside, allowing the nurse access to his bedside. With nothing to do as the nurse fussed about Danny's vital signs, affixed a nasal cannula and said something about getting approval for pain medication, Danny watched Steve's tall silhouette pace helplessly near the foot of his bed, his expression unreadable in the half-light of the room.

"He's all right, Commander," the nurse eventually offered. "I'll be back after I speak to his doctor so I can fill you in better; check on his meds. He needs to rest ... not talk."

"Yeah, okay," Steve said, apparently reluctant to have her leave even to do that much. He was tense and on edge as he returned to Danny's side, his expression now obviously colored by stress.

"M'fine ...," Danny whispered as he tried to figure out what else to say because his brain was stuck on Steve ... on the cards dealt to each of them. On some aspect of fate which firmly had planted each in the others' somewhat opposite universe. If things hadn't lined up in a certain way, their paths never would have crossed. So maybe the universe did have a divine plan - and not all of it fraught with devils and curses as Hank's might have been.

Unable to help himself, Danny smirked, albeit weakly and Steve's expression altered again, confusion now added to his worrisome emotional mix. "Fine? No ... no you're not. You've been sick for days," Steve said before quickly amending his statements. "You're not fine, buddy. But you will be."

 _Days?_ He'd missed that in the telling and Danny blinked wildly as any residual amusement about fate and kismet evaporated. _Days?_

"Days?" Danny asked to be sure as he reached out for Steve's fingers to keep his attention. That didn't seem right and yet, Steve's careful nod to compound the timeframe was enough. "But... "

"Danny," Steve covered his hand with both of his own to stop Danny from trying to speak. "Listen to me, all right? It's been almost four days since ...well," Steve paused to gather his thoughts, searching for the right words to say. "We found Stanton ... and the plane ... we think we know what happened. It was the storm ... the plane? It got hit by lightning."

"Hank ... couldn't stop him," Danny murmured softly as his thoughts went to Hank and the way the felon had fallen. All of it, the foundational cornerstones for his sickly, persistent nightmares. The fire ... seeing Carmichael already dead, his neck likely broken. Danny swallowed hard as he forced some air into his lungs.

"And .. Carmichael ... he ... his _neck_ ..."

"That's enough," Steve soothed as Danny's voice trailed off, easily drowned out by Steve's whispers for him to just rest. Danny was completely baffled by the timeframe though; what seemed so fresh to him, worsened by dreams and fever, had happened days ago now.

"But?" Danny whispered softly, his face creased in confusion. "That long?"

"Danny, Simms and I? We've taken care of everything ... everyone's been taken home," Steve softly assured him. "Do you know where you are - do you remember? You were in bad shape ... I had to keep you here, on Kauai. It was too risky to do anything else. I had no choice but to take you by chopper ... to fly you out. But I kept you here on Kauai since the hospital here wasn't even four minutes out from the crash site. Dumb, blind luck."

Steve sighed loudly this time, his stress worn blatantly on his sleeve. "I don't know how you got down to the beach ... if you hadn't ...the Columbians ... "

"Kismet," Danny whispered in answer and his lips twitched upwards again as he came full circle. "Besides, you warned me about them ... that it wasn't you; to hide. Damned cave." This time though not in amusement, but completely sobered by their brief conversation.

"I - I what? Warned you about ... _who_?" Steve asked, clearly baffled. "I don't ... Danny? What cave? What do you mean?"

"Just that... everything," Danny sighed the words tiredly under his breath, smiling softly about their connection. "It's kismet. Right?"

In his mind's eye, Danny made perfect sense but he lacked the energy to explain himself to his partner. As his eyes drifted closed, Danny made a vow to tell Steve what everything meant to him ... but later. He was tired and shivering, the ache in his chest a persistent reminder of the crash and his wild traipsing through jungle and down to a wilder rock-strewn beach. Danny allowed himself to drift back down to a darkness that was both good and sometimes wracked with disjointed memories that morphed into nightmares. With an effort, Danny forced his eyes back open one last time, searching for Steve and feeling a twinge of anger with himself for dozing off so quickly.

"Yeah ...kismet," Steve whispered when their eyes met. "Now, get some sleep buddy. All right?" Steve didn't seem to be nearly as confused as Danny might have thought because, he too, was daring to smile now. And as Steve's fingers resumed making those same soothing circles over Danny's wrist, Danny soon found himself giving in to the heaviness of his body and vaguely considering the wonders of fate ... and kismet.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	33. Chapter 33 - Kismet 5

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _well, some more wrap seems warranted ... thanks Phoebe - so much! - for assuring me it made sense since I read it far too many times this week!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 ** _Word of the Day:_** **Kismet -** _fate_

Danny was sitting in a wheelchair, outside in the warmth of the sun, when the agent unexpectedly arrived. No matter the odd pull on his healing abdomen, his knee started to jig on its own almost instantly while he fisted his hands in his lap. Tight-lipped, Danny watched the man approach automatically cataloging the round face, equally round glasses and stiff-kneed walk. Simms? Why the hell was the man here at the hospital? According to Steve, everything had been handled days ago and, call it selfish, Danny had thought he'd escape needing to talk to Carmichael's partner. But as the Agent lifted a hand in welcome, Danny knew he wasn't being fair to himself or to Simms. He knew exactly why the Agent was there and honestly, he'd have done the same thing if unfortunate enough to be in the man's shoes.

"Detective Williams," Simms said as he walked up the sidewalk, taking a short cut to cross the grassy berm to the hospital's warm, patio area. "You look much better; I hear that you're almost ready for travel; you'll be going home tomorrow if I heard correctly?"

"Yeah, that's right. Steve. He, _uh_ , he's working on scheduling things," Danny replied with a sketchy nod, unsure of what else to say. He was a little taken a-back by Simm's knowledge of his general health and of when he might be released to return to Oahu. Maybe it was only that Simms wanted to know if he might still be at the hospital so he wouldn't waste a trip out there. Then again, if Simm's home base was on Oahu, why hadn't he just waited for Danny's return? For a minute, Danny even wondered if Simms had timed his arrival to be when Steve wouldn't be on hospital grounds.

Danny opened his mouth to say just that and then changed his mind. He was too tired to prompt and argument with the man. But Danny's suspicious expression must have been telling enough because, with his hands sunk deeply into his pants pockets and sweat beading his brow, and though it was for a different reason, Simms looked just as uncomfortable as Danny.

"Must be nice having someone on your team that's a pilot - McGarrett can do just about anything it seems," Simms offered, trying to make light of the awkward situation but sounding resentful and Danny immediately found himself becoming more defensive. "Private flight ... plus the weather should be clear this time."

"Seriously, Simms?" Danny bit out sharply and the agent's eyes widened at what he'd just said, his expression stricken since each word had slowly made the situation far more tricky and questionable.

"I didn't mean that," he mumbled around a dry throat-clenching cough which turned into a gut-wrenching spasm. "It's just ..."

"You okay?" Danny asked automatically as Simms choked and coughed through his tears. He felt sick when Simm's looked away rather than answering, his face reddened. It took a concerted effort from Danny to force his fingers to open where they lay his lap. Uncomfortably warm, all he could then do was stare at them.

"Simms? Are you okay?" Danny repeated. He squinted up through the brightness of the day. Concerned as a shudder ran through the man's thick shoulders.

"Funny, you asking _me._ I'm fine," the agent replied around a tight smile. His voice was hoarse though and his face no less splotchy when he turned around. He looked Danny up and down before taking a deep breath.

"More importantly, how are you?" Simms asked after forcing himself to regain his composure by taking a series of deep breaths. "Really? How are you feeling?"

Danny shrugged noncommittally and then winced, tucking his elbow to his side as a brace against the thick ache. The wound there was taking time to heal from an infection he'd managed to contract from the rain and muddy terrain. He was still on IV antibiotics and pain medication, and still feeling very much under the weather.

"Detective ... _Danny_?" Simms had stepped forward, his expression showing his concern. "What's wrong? Should I get someone?"

"No, no. I'm good," Danny replied. He breathed in and out as steadily as he could until the pain abated and he dared relax his arm. He glanced up feeling Simms' eyes still on his face; the man looked honestly concerned.

"You very nearly died," Simms countered softly. "It's a damned miracle you're here now; something which McGarrett won't let me forget." Before Danny could ask what Simms meant, the agent waved his hand at the wheelchair and shook his head before rattling off all of Danny's woes. "Concussion, laceration along your left side. Infection ... blood loss, shock. Three fractured ribs. You're still feverish ... still in pain ... your activity is being monitored. From here, you're likely to go directly to a hospital on Oahu at least for another three or four days."

"Excuse me?" Danny hissed through his teeth. He bit his lip, his face now flushed in anger and pain. There was no need to state the obvious: Simms was a Federal agent and as such, had easily pulled each and every string in order to gain access to Danny's medical records. Even if he knew the how of it ... and might be able to reconcile the why ... Simm's still had had no right to do it. Danny was beginning to see Steve's original point about not liking the agent. Simms could be an absolute idiot.

"I'm sorry," Simms said quickly as Danny's eyes narrowed. "It's just ..."

"Whatever. Forget about it," Danny interrupted him coldly, his tone and obvious anger more than enough to shut the man down - at least for a few minutes. He didn't need Simms to fill him in about his own condition. Danny had learned a lot since much of the pain medications had been dialed down. That Simms was right because his injuries had been bad enough, worsened by his downhill trek while in shock and bleeding. That Steve had barely gotten him bundled into his chopper before he'd crashed hard and fast en-route to the local hospital there on Kauai. Lou had had his hands full in the three minute flight trying to stabilize Danny's flagging vitals with Steve manning the controls. From what Danny later learned, if the hospital hadn't already boasted a small landing pad for its Life Flight emergency services, Steve had every intention of literally landing in the hospital's parking lot. Despite Steve's best efforts, infection had set in and Danny had nearly lost his life anyway. The small plane crash had very nearly taken everyone's lives in some form or another and when Danny felt his worst, he was left secretly wondering if he'd accidentally cheated death. Maybe he shouldn't be there at all. But then he'd remember bits and pieces of having made it down the muddy narrow slopes with Steve's voice echoing inside his head. That mystery might never be solved but Danny knew what he heard - he knew _who_ he heard - and he believed it had all happened.

Nevertheless, while it was also true that he'd finally been cleared to get back to Oahu, still bound to a wheelchair and on a series of antibiotics, Danny very well might be exchanging one hospital for another. Some of those particular details were included in the facts Steve was chasing down that very moment. However, Simms probably didn't really care about those things at all. He had shown up for another reason and Danny, feeling a bit off-center, opted to challenge the question.

"You're not here for me," Danny stated bluntly. "Not ... _really_. Cut to the chase, Simms."

Simm's paused, not so surprised by the statements before smiling nervously. "No, you're right," he agreed. "Though, I _am_ honestly concerned about your welfare ... and I _am_ glad you're going to be okay, even if it's true ... I did have another reason for visiting you today."

"Fair enough," Danny murmured as he looked down at his fingers again. "Spit it out Simms. Let's get this over with." He asked but he knew all of the reasons. He knew why Simms was there. He made a noise under his breath partially in disgust, knowing that he'd be doing what Simms was doing now if he'd lost Steve. And if Steve lost him ... his partner would be doing the same exact thing, too ... chasing ghosts and looking for answers ... trying to find sense in the senseless. Stupidly looking for answers where there might not be any at all.

"I need to know ... did he ...? I mean ... Carmichael? He was my best friend and ... I _know_ what the M.E. _said._ I read the report a thousand times. But...," Simms voice was barely audible, raspy. It was all too much and Danny was already shaking his head to put a stop to the painful struggle.

"No, it was fast," Danny interrupted. He was stuck looking at his fingers, the sun now excruciatingly hot and his head heavy on his neck. "On impact ... I'm pretty sure of that," he added quietly. He let his chin fall to his chest, his memory conjuring a series of images. It was disturbing that if he tried hard enough, he might even be able to still smell the first smoldering warnings of a fire. Pushing more, Danny briefly closed his eyes as he reluctantly recalled the odd cant of Carmichael's neck and the way he intuitively knew Simm's partner had been dead.

 _He'd died on impact; he had to have._

"His neck," Danny clarified out loud. "Though you probably know that from the M.E.'s report, too. Before the plane... well before, the fire ... that came a few minutes later ... there was that odor, you know? And, I ... I..., _uh_ ... I didn't have time to get anyone else out."

He blinked as he admitted that to himself and scowled unhappily about having voiced it out loud. His fingers were blurring where they lay buried in his lap. He remembered thinking he should help or do something. But he hadn't, had he? Back then, he'd only made a grab for Henry Stanton. The man had been babbling like a loon the entire time. _Hell_ , thinking on it now, Danny wasn't sure he'd done enough at all. Maybe he'd been wrong. What if Carmichael, the pilot ... the co-pilot had all still been alive? Maybe even just one of them?

"Shit," Danny whispered as he shakily thumbed his eyes. This was the reason he hadn't wanted to see Simms. Bad memories and the surfacing of self-doubts.

 _Had he done anything at all except save his own skin?_

"No. No, n-no," Simms stammered as he easily read Danny's change in demeanor. "No, you did what you could." He was shifting from foot to foot, his face red and his eyes watering. He scrubbed hard at his face, but that didn't do anything to offset his emotional turmoil. "I know ... and I thought ... and the M.E. ... he said ...but I needed to be sure."

"Yeah," Danny said. "I know ... I get it." And he did as he shrugged, before catching Simms' eye. He did get it because he knew what Simms really needed to hear no matter what the M.E. had discovered.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Simms said. "I just ... I needed to know."

"What are you sorry for now?" Danny asked roughly. "I'm the one who's sorry ... I should have done more." He blinked again, clearing his own misty-eyed vision. "I should have done something."

"More? Like what exactly? I just said that you did everything you could!" Simms scoffed, his tone understanding and yet, just a bit firm. "Danny ... you were in a plane crash and in shock. The fire? It was an impossible situation. It was an accident and no one expected you to do a damned thing, least of all me - and there's no blame. None; don't do that to yourself."

Danny shook his head, perplexed. Simms was an odd bird and hard to figure out. He glanced up and saw the confusion and regret in Simm's face. The two of them were certainly on delicate grounds and suddenly Danny felt more tired than he had in hours. The sun was too warm and he could feel a trickle of sweat slowly beading to roll down his back. It was then that he realized his hospital gown was becoming sticky from the heat and he was desperate to get back inside the walls of the hospital. In fact, Danny wished Steve would just come back to smooth things over. He was running out of things to say and his physical discomfort was growing in spades now.

"Listen, Simms. Would it help if I told you that I expected you to show up to talk to me at some point?" Danny asked the agent, hoping his own forthright words would finally do the trick. "That's all I can remember; I hope ... I hope it's enough."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Simms mumbled after a moment. "It's enough. It is. But before I go ... do you want my help to get back inside?"

Utterly relieved that Simms was done, Danny nodded as he returned the smile. He was feeling sickly and overheated. Steve was running late and Danny briefly wondered if he'd truly be given the okay for the flight back to Oahu. Steve could be arguing his case; or, worse yet, simply managing another round of some kind of mandatory hospital care there on Kauai. Sighing dismally at the prospect of being required to say longer, Danny tiredly closed his eyes when Simms strode forward and thumbed off the wheelchair's safety brakes.

"Hold on then," Simms said, evidently pleased to be of some help as they started in from the patio. 'Here we go."

They were just nearing the doors though when the chair stopped moving and Danny squinted his eyes back open. A wave of cooler air drafted over his face from inside the hospital's air-conditioned interior and Danny inhaled it, slightly refreshed by the change in temperature. It was the tall shadow that he focused on though.

"Simms. What's going on?" A take-out cup of coffee in each hand, Steve was blocking their way, a very guarded look on his face. "Danny?"

"Nothing," Danny said before Simms could utter a word. He waved his hand towards the cooler interior of the hospital and then pointed to the coffee cups which Steve was holding. "Simms wanted to see how I was doing and I asked him to help me inside. More importantly, is one of them for me? Do I have a ride home? And the only happy answer to each of those questions will be a yes, Steven."

Frowning as he studied Danny's face, Steve handed him one of the cups. "You don't look good. What's going on?" Steve demanded, all the while staring at Simms before simply supplanting the agent from the rear of Danny's wheelchair. "I'll take it from here," Steve stated coldly, his tone enough to make Danny roll his eyes skywards as the stand-off began to take root.

"Excuse me, but the patient ... that would be me ... wants to go inside now," Danny interrupted the tangible rise in tension."Gentlemen?" He'd no idea the relations between Steve and Simms had gone south so very badly as he tried to defuse the anger. It made sense though and Danny should have realized it. He'd had enough clues to cobble together merely based on Simms stilted conversation.

"Detective Williams, thank you for your time," Simms stated blandly as he stepped to the side in order for Steve to push Danny through the doors. "Safe travels home."

Steve deigned to turn the chair just enough for Danny to see the agent. Simms was on the verge of the doorway. He was already starting to back away, to leave the grounds across the patio the way he'd arrived, his hands fisted and his own expression, a mix of sorrow and indignation. "Thank you for speaking with me," Simms said more sincerely. Danny opened his mouth to say something, but then the man was gone and the automatic doors were sliding shut.

"What did he want?" Steve asked again. Based on his tone, Steve was still angry. Beginning to pace, hands on his hips as he stared outside towards the parking lot, he'd even forgotten that he was supposed to be taking Danny back up to his room.

"What do you think? He needed to ask about his partner," Danny countered back. "Let it go, Steve. Can we go upstairs now?" He was tired of talking and his partner should know better than to be asking such a question; at least in Danny's own opinion.

There was a pause and then Steve was in front of him, staring down, his eyes sharp and his expression, pensive. "You need to lie down," Steve finally said, his demeanor softening. "It's probably time for your meds and I was running late ... but yeah, it took some doing but I can get you home tomorrow. Unless something - or someone - causes you to have a set-back ..."

"Steve? I'm not going to have a set-back. Did you hear me about letting things go?" Danny pressed on in order to get confirmation of the other part of what he'd asked and he was relieved when Steve relented.

"Yeah. All right, I'll let it go ...but it _was_ too soon," Steve muttered. "I don't like that he was here."

"It could have been us," Danny noted as Steve rolled him towards the elevators. "Me ... you could be here today, asking _Carmichael_ ...wanting to talk about the same things Simms needed to talk about ..."

"But it wasn't," Steve interrupted quickly. He stopped their forward motion in front of the bank of elevators and Danny shook his head at the futility of it all. Then Steve was in front of him again, bent over at the waist and practically vibrating with emotion. "It _wasn't_ , Danny, and Simms had no business being here!"

Steve was adamant and still very much annoyed by Simms' appearance. It didn't take much for Danny to remind himself that Steve had been against the mission from the very beginning, too. Against the mission and certainly against Danny taking part in the ill-fated flight. His dislike of Simms had been similarly clearly voiced; the two had done nothing but antagonize each other upon meeting.

"Okay, all right," Danny said, giving in because he knew it would take some time for his partner to calm down. If Danny was recovering, then Steve was certainly starting to run on fumes as he tried to manage a case, a plane crash, hours of discussions with the Feds and Danny's own medical care. Simms showing up that day hadn't helped matters. _Still_? Danny shook his head, his voice low as Steve thumbed the elevator's call button a bit too hard.

"You know that he had to come... he _had_ to know, Steve," Danny stated quietly. "He had to see me; I was the last one to see his partner." Head down, Danny looked at Steve up through his lashes, reading the tight-lipped expression which relented just a tiny bit as Steve caught his eye.

"Maybe," Steve finally and most reluctantly muttered. "He could have waited another day or two, though." Danny managed a patient grin. Steve wasn't really letting anything go quite yet. His expression was a confusing combination of relief and fear. The _'I told you so_ ' about the entire shit-mission continued to ball Steve up and toy with his emotions.

Danny chuffed a knowing sound under his breath as Steve continued to stare at him, clearly worried. It hadn't been them needing to deal with loss and maybe _that_ was because of their kismet being hard at work. If so, then Danny should have paid more attention to Steve's premonition. For whatever reason though, Fate had taken pity on them and Fate had allowed Danny one more chance. He'd certainly been listening then ... hard and true to that mental diatribe ... and Steve had gotten him down through an impossible jungle and to a rocky shore-line. Not quite in one piece, but _alive_.

Despite the odds, Fate had also allowed Steve to make it through the remnants of a vicious storm to find him.

"Tomorrow?" Danny whispered questioningly, his eyes closing as Steve rolled him into the elevator. He felt Steve put a steadying hand on his shoulder, the warmth countering the sweaty-chill from his hospital gown.

"We're going home tomorrow," Steve confirmed under his breath and Danny smiled, his eyes still closed. It wasn't them because it hadn't been meant to be.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	34. Chapter 34 - Resilient

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _spontaneous purge ... New relationship greatly implied it seems. Steve's first foray into really_ _stepping in to take care of Charlie when Danny is briefly out of pocket. Squinting might reveal a bit of McDanno ... enormous thanks to Phoebe for encouraging this to completion. I wasn't sure it was going to amount to anything at all._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Resilient**_ _ **.** able to withstand or recover quickly from difficult conditions. _

Steve's positive that Danny will never speak to him again. Never. Just like right now, as he holds Charlie's small fingers in one hand, the palm of his other cupped over the boy's blonde head, this will be the last time he's allowed within an inch of Danny's son. Ever.

"Danno will be here soon," Steve crooned softly as Charlie sobbed, his legs weakly churning on the gurney he'd been reluctantly transferred to from Steve's arms. "And later? We'll get some ice cream. Would you like that, _huh_?" The question was a stupid one because it was darn clear what Charlie wanted - who he wanted - and Steve's attempts at distracting him were feeble at best. They'd gone over as well as the teddy bear, the colorful stickers from the nurses and even the promises of an ice popsicle or two. Steve had tried to call Danny a few times, hanging up when voice mail clicked in because he didn't dare leave a message. What would he have said anyway? Steve had tried for a direct conversation but finally had resorted to a simple text message.

 _Call me. ASAP._

But ASAP hadn't been so fast and Danny had responded to that text message by calling Steve only a few minutes earlier and by then, it was Steve who couldn't take the call because he was holding Charlie as quietly as he could for the x-ray technician, the two of them draped in radiation protective garments. When Steve had finally called Danny back, he'd continued to do his best at juggling the chaos in the ER and the battery of barely-heard questions Danny had aimed at him. These were on the heels of the questions being spewed at him by the attending doctor, a nurse, and then admitting staff, and Steve's head was left spinning.

 _How had the accident happened?_ Charlie had a run in with a swing set at the beach ... over by Ewa Beach ... he'd gone too high ... or, maybe tried to jump ... Steve wasn't sure ... _he'd heard the cry first and then had seen the little boy lying crumpled in a heap ... he'd banged his arm and his head ...he'd scraped his chin raw ..._

 _Did his son have any allergies?_ Not that Steve knew of, but _wait_ , _... he's not my son ..._

 _Not your son? Well_ , _no_ ... _but proxy ... I'm his guardian ...at least for right now, Steve had thought ruefully because that was sure to be changing..._

 _How about any other prior injuries?_ None again that Steve knew of, _but Charlie had been ill ... bone marrow transplant ... and his records? Pediatrician...?_

 _Where? What ... how long ago?_ Steve's mouth was drier than dry by that point and his head ached at the volume of things he'd been asked and then cross-examined over. He didn't fathom why it all mattered for a broken arm and a concussion. He'd managed though. He'd put the attending doctor in touch with Charlie's pediatrician, all of his doctors in fact ... everyone he could think of to pull the little boy's medical records to cover all the bases. But it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot because Steve couldn't even remember what he'd said to Danny. And as for Danny? There was so much noise in the background from the competition on his side of the call, Steve wasn't even sure what Danny heard and then told him.

Steve's gut tightened as he stroked Charlie's face and ran his fingers through his hair. Sure, he'd watched both of Danny's kids before. But not like this when it _really_ mattered and Steve began to feel sick. An easy hour or two here and there wasn't a weekend gig ending in an emergency room with an injured little boy who was overwhelmed and scared. It wasn't supposed to be a frenetic text message or call to the boy's father, interrupting a father-daughter event which Danny had vowed not to miss for Grace's sake.

Steve had screwed up and now? He was out of his element on this one and hanging on to an emotional ledge by his fingertips. "Your daddy's on his way," Steve murmured softly as Charlie clung to his hand. He wasn't sure when though and couldn't even hazard a guess as to Danny's arrival at the hospital. After that much too brief exchange and a frustrated text from Danny that he'd be leaving Grace's competition as quickly as humanly possible, Steve's world had continued to revolve strictly around Charlie. Even tucked onto Steve's lap, the ride in the ambulance had been a scary experience for the five-year old. And now, the ER was loud and far too bright. Much too confusing for a little boy who was hurting and already frightened. As things seemed to continually spiral out of control, Steve cringed along with Charlie every time a strange voice boomed or a new person rushed in to follow through on a medical order or to ask yet another question.

"I'm sorry, buddy, I know it hurts," Steve whispered, focused completely on the little boy and what the doctors were discussing now that the x-rays had finally been done. He'd tabled everything else outside of this small universe and refused to dwell too much on what might happen next between himself and his partner. Somewhere in the back of his head though, Steve's own personal fear was just waiting to eat him up alive because he could just imagine Danny's reaction when he arrived at the hospital.

"Un'cl Steve," Charlie called out a moment later, his eyes swimming with tears. "W'nna go'ome."

" _Shhh_ , we'll go home soon ... the doctors have to check the pictures they just took of your arm. You're going to be okay," Steve murmured senselessly as he vainly tried to wipe the non-stop, steady stream of tears which streaked down Charlie's face with the side of his hand. "Everything's okay, buddy." Stomach in knots and feeling more keyed up than any of his past, worst missions as Charlie vacillated between wanting him or calling out for Danno, Steve decided that maybe it was he who won't allow himself near Danny's kids ever again.

"We're almost done ... if it's a break, he may need a cast. But kids are so resilient," one of the nurse's whispered in Steve's ear, her tone friendly. "I know it's scary, but it was an accident; those playgrounds ... we see so many accidents like this. I'm sure he'll be fine and he'll calm down soon ... it's never easy for us to watch our kids hurting, is it? I'll see if the doctor's prescribed any pain medications yet for your son."

"No. No it's not," Steve muttered without looking at the woman because, except for one thing, he completely disagreed with everything she'd just said. That Charlie was his son? Steve didn't bother to correct the nurse on that point. It didn't matter because father or not, she was right in this one thing: it hurt Steve big time to bear witness to Charlie's pain. Nothing else she said made a dent beyond that. He didn't want to test Charlie's resilience or have the little boy as frightened as he was at that very moment. It also didn't matter if many an accident could happen at a common playground by the beach. Steve still felt ... definitely was ... entirely responsible. With only one task to do that day but keep an eagle-eye on Danny's son, he'd failed big time because what had happened to Charlie happened on _his_ watch.

No other truth was needed.

"Unc'l Steve? W-want D-daddy," Charlie sobbed on, his chest hitching, over-wrought by pain and simple fear. "I w-want m-my d-daddy."

"Soon. Soon. I promise, Charlie," Steve said. "Please baby, try to calm down, okay? Danno's on his way ... he's trying to get here. He is. I promise."

No matter his partner's wrath, Steve desperately wanted Danny to show up, too. But Danny was stuck clear on the other side of the island with his daughter, Grace, attending her final cheer competition of the year. He leaned over and kissed Charlie's forehead just shy of the pebbly scratches and ugly purpling bruise. There was another nasty looking scrape to match those, on his chin.

"Such a big boy. So brave," Steve whispered. He gently kissed Charlie again, startled and newly afraid by the thick waves of heat coming off the flushed, tear-stained skin. Charlie mewled sadly, his chest juddering while he clung to Steve's hand, wanting to be held again. Stuck in time and at the whim of too many adults who only wanted the best for him, Charlie just didn't understand why they just didn't make him feel better. Ever patient with the boy, Steve continued to murmur a series of soft words, very much relieved when Charlie finally began to quiet down little by little.

"Here, let's try this." The nurse who'd just been there had returned. She was smiling and holding a small, liquid-filled oral syringe.

"What is that? Pain meds?" Steve asked, relieved when she nodded.

"Will he take this for you? The doctor is on his way back; he's looked at the x-rays," She said quietly apparently not wanting to disturb the newly discovered calm they were balancing on. "He'll feel so much better if he will... Charlie? It's grape ... do you like grape?"

"I think he does," Steve cautiously affirmed as the took the syringe. "Hey, Charlie? Grape? Will you try to take this for me? It will make you feel better; your arm won't hurt as much, okay?"

He waited patiently, not pressing and not really expecting the little boy to be willing. And yet, the exact opposite happened when Charlie opened this mouth, his eyes glued to Steve's face.

"Here you go," Steve prompted softly, smiling as Charlie swallowed the medicine without any fuss at all. "What a good boy." Charlie heaved in a shattered sigh, unsure if he might cry again or just give in to how tired his body was. Understanding that teetering line, Steve lightly rubbed his chest, whispering constant words of praise.

"He's a real champ!" The nurse beamed down in approval. She patted Steve on the shoulder, her next words confirming what they'd all suspected. "The doctor's here now and he'll fill you in."

Steve nodded, registering the doctor's arrival, as he leaned down to plant another kiss on Charlie's sweaty forehead. "Good boy; you really are so very brave, buddy, and I need you to be brave just a little bit longer while I talk to Doctor Larson. But, I'm so proud of you, Charlie. Try to rest a little bit."

Rubbing a soothing circle on Charlie's forehead with the pad of his thumb and pleased when the boy's eyes began to flutter, Steve forced himself to remain calm even though he was at wits end. He'd done everything he could. _Hell_ , he was still doing everything he could but he was sure it wasn't ever going to be enough. He tried to think back to the time he'd broken his own arm playing PeeWee football. He vaguely remembered the pain ... hardly remembered being in the hospital at all. With effort, Steve might recall snatches of conversation or a sometimes desperate look on his father's face. A flare of anger aimed at a doctor? He knew now that his father had been this terrified; only now, did Steve get it. Heaving in a long-suffering sigh, Steve acknowledged the doctor.

"So?" Steve asked Doctor Larson who was already motioning to the person behind him. Yet another nurse who had a tray full of supplies and Steve's heart sank deeper than it already was. "He needs a cast, then?"

"Yes, he does," Doctor Larson said. He smiled warmly down at Charlie who was tiredly reaching out for Steve again and Steve was happy to oblige. "We're really good at this and it won't take too long at all. After, Charlie's room will be ready and by the look of things, this little man could really use the down time."

"Him and me, both," Steve muttered under his breath as he stayed hunched over the boy. He had his doubts about how long it could really take and kept glancing at his watch and then towards his cell phone. Every person at the door was Danny ... except none of them were. Worried that Larson had exaggerated, less than fifteen minutes later, Charlie was sporting a short fiberglass cast and a few minutes after that, snuggled back on Steve's lap.

"Uncle Steve?" Charlie murmured just once before his eyes dipped closed. He sighed then, his face turned trustingly into Steve's chest, his fingers grasping for the material of his t-shirt.

"Right here, buddy," Steve assured him quietly, pleased when Charlie's breathing evened out and he began to doze. Things were finally calming down and with luck, Danny would be showing up too. However, Larson was soon back and Steve raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Room's ready," the doctor said, an orderly in tow.

"Can I carry him upstairs?" Steve whispered. "He's quiet ... I think even sleeping a bit." He glanced down, his gaze fond. The fingers of Charlie's good hand were wadded inside the folds of his shirt and his head pillowed comfortably against Steve's shoulder. Only his fingers flexed when Steve carefully got to his feet.

"I'd hate to startle him," Steve explained. "He's comfortable and he's finally stopped crying."

"Of course," Larson said. "Perfectly fine. Just follow Jake here upstairs."

Steve gave the doctor a sketchy smile, his charge bundled in his arms as he followed the orderly towards the elevators and then up to the small bedroom in the pediatric ward where Steve opted for the large recliner chair. He didn't dare risk moving Charlie to the bed and frankly, he didn't want to lose the contact as his thoughts began to linger more on Danny's arrival.

" _Shhh_ ," Steve murmured when Charlie moaned softly, his face briefly contorting as Steve settled down, the orderly helping to recline the chair to a comfortable angle. Holding his breath when Charlie fidgeted a bit, Steve watched as the boy's expression eased back into sleep. He well knew that a nurse would be in to rouse Charlie, to check on the affects of his concussion, but until that happened, Steve intended to count the rise and fall of his chest, willing the soft hiccupy wheeze left over from crying, away. Ever so gently, Steve finger-combed a few strands of blonde hair off Charlie's forehead, bending his head to press a loving kiss to a flushed cheek.

"You're okay," he murmured under his breath. "You're okay." Once again his thoughts were straying though. Back to Danny's arrival and how that might wind up. Worried about what he should or could say to make things right, Steve made a face because too much time had gone by and he hadn't checked his messages, nor reached out to Danny himself. He didn't want to move but his cell phone was in his back pocket and Steve shifted an arm and then tried to carefully elevate his lower body to reach it, but almost on cue, Charlie made a soft resentful sound.

" _Shhh_ ," Steve instinctively hummed, his head bowed close to Charlie's ear. "I'm here. Just rest, buddy." He carded his fingers carefully through Charlie's hair, marveling at its softness and humming again when Charlie relaxed.

"Steve?" Steve felt the reactive tremor clear through to his fingertips at the sound of Danny's voice. He looked up, startled, chest tight, his breathing stuttering to nearly a pained stop. He was stunned to find Danny standing frozen in the doorway, even though he'd been anticipating his arrival all along. But there Danny was, with an unreadable expression laced across his face.

"Danny,...here ... he's ..." Steve whispered hoarsely. "Take him ... he's ..." He was sure that Danny would want to reclaim his son and Steve moved by reflex, his muscles tightening and ready to switch places - _hand off Charlie_ \- until Danny's eyes widened nearly in horror.

" _No! Nonono_!" Danny shushed almost too loudly when his son whimpered to being slightly jostled. " _Stay_!"

"He fell," Steve said as Danny eased himself down to a knee by the side of the chair. "Damned swings and a couple of bigger kids... and he just ...it happened so fast ..."

"When you texted, Grace's team was waiting in the wings to go," Danny rushed out apologetically at the same time Steve was trying to explain what had happened. "I couldn't leave her ...I mean ...teenagers and all .. and I needed to be there for her ...I'd promised ..."

"No, yeah - you had to stay for Grace, of course," Steve agreed. He shook his head, trying to communicate how sorry he was because all the words he'd practiced had dried up. "You should take him. He wants you ...I should have been watching him better."

"Watching him better?" Danny surprised Steve by chuffing an almost humorous sound. "He's _five_ , Steven, and even ex-Navy SEALs don't have eyes in the backs of their heads ... and if he's anything like the way I was at his age - which we both know he is - we're both in for quite a ride."

"Both?" Steve asked. Baffled, Steve's mouth gaped wide and he blinked almost stupidly as Danny quirked a tired smile at him.

" _Both_. What's wrong with you, _huh_? Besides, he looks like he's perfectly fine with his Uncle Steve to me," Danny whispered as he ghosted his fingers lightly over Charlie's cheek. He smiled lovingly before leaning over to kiss Charlie precisely where his fingers had just been.

"You though? You look shattered," Danny remarked next as he gazed into Steve's face.

"Me? No - this isn't about me at all. And I think you should really take him," Steve insisted. "Danny ... please take him. He wants you." This couldn't be right. Danny's reaction was calm, far too understanding and Steve shook his head because he'd screwed up so very badly. "I'm sorry ... I _didn't_ ... Danny, please take him."

"I think you should stop talking before you wake him up," Danny replied calmly. He cocked his head, eyes narrowed as if cross-examining every inch of Steve's face before humming a knowing sound in his throat. "It's not your fault ... it was an accident."

"Danny, take him," Steve repeated, feeling numb and emotionally off-balance when all Danny did was lean over to run his fingers dotingly through Steve's hair. How could he do that? How could he be so damnably understanding?

"No, no I won't ... at least not yet. He's perfectly content right where he is," Danny murmured softly, the palm of his hand now cradling the side of Steve's face, his thumb caressing over the ridge of his cheekbone. "You though ... you look absolutely exhausted."

"Me? This entirely my fault!" Steve stammered as he tried to keep his voice down, helplessly relieved but still needing to apologize because what had happened to Charlie was his fault. "I'm so sorry. I should have ... "

"Should have what? Had four pairs of arms and another set of eyes in the back of your head? Wouldn't we all be wonderfully perfect parents if that were the case," Danny murmured as he leaned over to simply plant a kiss on the top of Steve's head. "Why are you sorry when I'm glad you were here with him? You were here for me, too, when I couldn't be two places at once. You were here even for Grace if you think about it _because_ I couldn't have stayed with her if this had happened with anyone else watching Charlie. _You_ were here ... don't you get that?"

A moment later, he was moving round to the back of the chair, his fingers now trailing over Steve's shoulders. Intuitively knowing where they'd be, Danny used his thumbs to first gently press and knead the tight, sore spots on Steve's neck away. Then, he found the deep aches in Steve's shoulders.

"But it shouldn't have happened," Steve breathed out, his eyes falling to half-mast on their own, his chin now nearly grazing the top of Charlie's head.

"Stop talking. It was an _accident_ plain and simple. You did all the right things." Danny leaned down again, this time from above, the warmth of his breath preceding a chaste kiss to the side of Steve's temple. He chuckled softly, tenderly, the sound further teasing away the tight knots stuck inside Steve's chest. Only then did all of his aches vanish.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	35. Chapter 35 - Catatonic

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _This story is for Evil Cosmic Twins who fully encouraged me to have some fun with a story that might serve no other purpose than to be spooky! This mixes a variety of different myths and legends together without a real, true attempt at research. I've spun things to keep the story SHORT - 2 chapters - and moving merrily along._

 _I must be honest - this is a contrived "Word of the Day" as I made the word fit the story I had in mind. Not beta'd .. any mistakes are mine own of course._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Catatonic.** of or in an immobile or unresponsive stupor._

"Danny? What happened?" Steve asked breathlessly as he knelt by his partner's side and hastily stripped off his black gloves. "Hey. Look at me ... _look at me_ ... tell me what happened."

Danny didn't reply though and Steve cursed under his breath as he tried to tug Danny's chin towards his face. It was fruitless. Danny's neck was rigid and Steve failed at the attempt which was even more alarming. Sitting ramrod straight and as if rigor had set in, the blue of Danny's eyes were glazed over and he was fixated on some far away spot beyond Steve's right shoulder. Losses growing by the second as sweat began to bead across Danny's forehead and a subtle tremor rippled through the taut muscles, Steve raised his voice, unable to hide his unease.

" _Me_... look at _me_. Come on, hey. Danny? What the hell happened?" Steve was just about pleading and refusing to listen to the faint illogical murmurings which began to tease his mind in an ancient, raspy lilting tone.

 _Them. They sent it ..._

"Danny?" Steve ignored the mental warning with a growl. The gibberish had devolved into _shadows so dark, they were pitch black in daylight. Banshees ... the lot of them._

It hadn't made sense the prior day and certainly didn't make sense now. The old man who'd once been catatonic upon arrival to the hospital had woken sounding like a B-movie gone worse. There had been no diagnosis defining the man's catatonic-state and then no reason for why he'd roused. He'd only gotten attention because he'd been a child-hood friend of the Governor's visiting Oahu from Dublin.

So now? Danny had obviously walked into some kind of ambush; someone had surprised his partner and Danny was hiding some kind of injury. No more, no less. That was the one and only rational explanation.

"Come on, look at me, buddy ... who did this? Huh?" Steve persisted. "Where are you hurt?"

The thin elderly voice smiled in his head and Steve made a face. _Bánánach_. He'd had to look it up to understand after gently interrogated the Governor's friend. He'd done it on the sly, learning that bánánach were spectres which haunted old battlefields. Steve hadn't been too impressed, though he understood then because there was a very similar Hawaiian legend of the same ilk. He'd filed it away and respectfully said nothing, agreeing with the Governor that Five-0 would investigate his friend's apparent abduction ... he'd been robbed and badly addled in the process.

The same had happened to Danny and ...

 _Them_ a new voice whispered and Steve blinked, stiffening in surprise because that time, he'd heard the word as if on the wind. But so near to him and far too close.

"Hey! Hey ... who's there!?" He shouted as he stayed low, crouched, covering his partner. "Son of a bitch," Steve muttered to himself, feeling foolish and jumpy as hell when he saw and heard nothing more. He was falling for rumors and lies and he'd never been one to be impressionable. Still, he and Danny were far too exposed and he needed to get them out of there. Now.

"Danny ... look at me. We gotta go." Steve tried giving Danny a firm shake. "Come on! Just blink dammit! Don't just sit there!" Even ducking his head this way and that, he couldn't capture Danny's attention though. "What the hell are you looking at?!" He cursed in frustration as the doctors' initial recitation on the old man came to mind.

 _Catatonic upon arrival. No outward signs of attack ... still ..._

"Danny ...," Steve urged him as he pushed the doctors' words to the wayside even though Danny looked every bit the definition of catatonic.

When Danny's brief transmission had cut-off mid-sentence, he'd double-timed it to his partner's side from the opposite end of the bunker. He'd found Danny as he was now: sitting up against a concrete wall with his legs straight out in front of him, his back rigid. The wall was cold and damp, crumbling from age as it sucked water into its old surface only to spew it out in a thin sheen at its base. Danny was literally sitting in that dank, shallow puddle which had coagulated there. He apparently didn't care. In fact, from what Steve could see, Danny might not even know where he was right then.

Growing more than just a little nervous, Steve looked around the old bunker for the hundredth time. He had an eerie feeling of being watched and he couldn't shake it. Again ridiculous because the place wasn't even all that remote. And with the sun shining brilliantly through a smattering of pretty green leaves, Steve could still hear the distant sounds of cars and trucks on the highway. The normal predictable sounds of life and civilization. This was a popular spot for the local kids to throw down the occasional party, proven by the volume of liquor bottles, cheap beer cans and blackened circular hunk of metal serving as a make-shift fire pit.

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, Steve looked deeply into the maw of the bunker's doorway. There was a faint, dim flicker of light at the other side. Likely a point of egress or at minimum, a fissure in crumbling concrete. The thing had been falling to the elements for some time now. Regardless, Steve knew that Danny hadn't actually gone into the thing; that was the reason for his partner's exasperated transmission in the first place. At least partly the reason. Steve had missed the rest.

"Danny?" Steve tried one last time while tapping his comm link and switching gears completely. No matter what he might try, he knew that he wasn't going to get anything out of his partner. Something had happened ... _maybe_ ... Steve both knew and didn't know at the same time. The rumors had been running rampant since before he was a kid and that damned old man? Spitting gibberish so badly about god knew what. All of it was the stuff of nightmares and dark magic.

 _Make-believe._ Even senility ... nonetheless, Steve shook his head as the hair on the back of his neck began to itch.

 _They sent it ... ancient taboo ..._ _labu... the black ghost ..._

 _Impossible_. Even if some tiny part of him had doubts from years of growing up surrounded by native culture, his adult brain said it was sheer bunk. He needed to take care of his partner and whatever the doctors found out, therein would like the most honest and very credible truth.

"Lou? Lou! Where're you at? I've got a problem ... a big one."

Grim-faced, Steve started to pat Danny down looking for hidden injuries. He quickly ran his fingers through Danny's hair, down his neck and then flipped the velcro off Danny's vest so that Danny might breathe easier. Still feeling nervous, Steve left the vest in place though as he continued his fast but efficient triage.

"Nothing ... nothing," Steve muttered to himself as he ended his search down each of Danny's legs. Good and yet ... maybe not so much as Steve's imagination began to run wild. Drugs? Toxic inhalants? Some kind of ... _what_? Poison? He scowled to himself, scrubbing his hand roughly through his hair as the old man's incessant babble helplessly ran through his mind.

 _Them._

 _It._

The sick old man in the hospital had just about been screaming nonsense ... and how _they'd_ infected his mind ... tried to take his soul ... _but he was too old_. No. Steve shook his head as his heart lurched inside his chest, feeling desperate enough to check Danny out even more closely. This was impossible. The old man had made no sense at all. Irish folklore and Hawaiian legend muddled and merged. His team were only here at the bunker checking out one tiny aspect of the incredible story even though Steve, like Danny, had thought the entire escapade a massive waste of time.

"Lou? Report," Steve demanded more forcibly. "Lou?" He frowned listening hard, a hand tightening on his weapon as he made sure he was directly shielding Danny from whatever - no, that was wrong. He could feel whoever it was nearby. _He could feel ... them, or ..._

 _It's here._

He heard the whisper on the wind at the same moment he saw it. A black silhouette from just within the lip of the bunker itself. Reacting quickly, Steve clenched his fists before whirling around with his gun aimed towards the entrance.

 _Give him._

A louder whisper. A demand for Danny and Steve crouched over his partner as he tried to track what wasn't supposed to be there.

 _Labu - a black ghost._

Steve startled though because another image came to mind. Another name. _Kino wailua. Spirit of the dead._ His eyes flickered in vain, his gun-hand seeking purchase and needing to hold his fire when none was found. At once thinking a shape might be there but then losing its shadows against the greenery of leaves, Steve hesitated; if such a thing had been there at all.

"Lou? Answer me ... report," Steve ground out on high alert. His heart was thudding now as he crouched partially near Danny's side, lightly balanced on the balls of his feet. "Lou? Where the hell are you?"

"St've ... w'h're ..." Lou's voice might have been clear on the other side of the island so Steve wasn't sure if he felt much better even when the deep tone finally crackled over the comm link. It was so badly distorted that each word was unrecognizable and that, too? That made zero sense at all.

"Forget it!" Steve practically shouted as he hit the link in his ear so hard, he rocked his own head on his neck. "Lou, if you can hear me ... meet me at the rally point! I need help ... Danny needs help."

Covered in a sheen of sweat, Danny was flat out shaking now, his hands fisted almost painfully tight in his lap. That's when Steve realized that Danny's weapon was missing. Eyes wide as another movement caught his eye only to disappear as quickly as he turned, Steve made a decision. His next search was half-hearted and nearest where Danny was sitting, knowing the weapon wouldn't be there. The bunker beckoned him again and that distant light at its other end seemed like a beacon. But then it shifted and then winked out entirely and Steve cursed softly.

 _Give him. Give. Him._

"Fuck off," Steve challenged back, sneering bravely against an odd frigid breeze which wafted warningly across his face. It held a thick stench of rot and mildew, then something else that made Steve gag and he lurched into action.

"We're leaving," Steve said out loud, anger and fear for Danny warring together as the tremors visibly increased through his partner's torso. "Easy buddy ... there's only one place you're going and that's with me." Opting to draw on his anger, he set his jaw in determination as he blatantly ignored an incomprehensible blast of putrid air that nearly froze his lungs. He gagged again and then spat up bile, refusing to back down even when he failed at sucking in a breath of clean, fresh air.

 _Give. Himmmmmm._

Eyes tearing from the toxic odor, Steve forced himself to breathe. He didn't have time to worry about anything else as he grabbed Danny's arms and hefted him over a shoulder. With an audible grunt, Steve staggered to his feet, eyes slitted in anger, his gun at the ready despite the awkward weight of Danny's body.

GIVE _HIM_!

Unable to speak as he gagged and retched against the stench, Steve tightened the hold he had on Danny's back, wending his fingers firmly through the webbing of his partner's tac-vest. With a snarl on his lips, Steve barely paused as a black shadow flit warningly across the sun-drenched path he intended to take. Maybe he should have stopped. Instead, he forced his feet to move.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	36. Chapter 36 - Catatonic Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _Hope y'all like this .. it's not meant to be entirely sensible. Thank you for all the kind reviews! Phoebe - thanks again for the encouragement on this!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Steve's face was shimmering in front of him and Danny blinked a good many times, trying to see him better but it was as if a veil was hanging between them. Danny frowned when his vision refused to fully cooperate. He stared at Steve trying to understand the look on his friend's face but Steve's features swam sickeningly on and Danny fought to find the right word around a spasm of nausea. He finally settled on calling what he could see of it, Steve's patented aneurysm face. Danny thought he hadn't been able to identify it mostly - and despite his problematic vision - because he hadn't seen that look in a very, very long time.

More was wrong though. This wasn't right because Steve shouldn't be here though. Danny had watched him ... die ... be _killed_ because ... _why_?

 _Choose_.

Danny zoned out as he tumbled back into something he couldn't yet decipher as dream or reality. He tried to breathe as the threat bore down on him again. _It_ was close. He could smell it and his nose wrinkled at the thick stench. _It was right there_. Right on top of him or standing behind him, their bodies barely touching. A reactive tremor ran through him from top to bottom for the ultimatum he heard next because with that came dim image of his children. Of Grace ... Charlie ... and he just didn't know why.

 _Choose_.

Danny heaved in a juddering breath of air as the voice whispered inside his head. He'd chosen ... _not to choose_. There had been so much blood because Danny had failed him. _Steve_. The wraith had whispered threats as he'd forced Danny to do ... _what_? Sitting now in a hospital bed, Danny's frown deepened as his stare lengthened beyond Steve's silhouette.

 _There had been so much blood, it had been as dense and black as tar._

Had he done something ... or not? But not ... not _what_?

He couldn't remember anything more than a feeling of being helplessly trapped ... _and being forced to_ ... Danny slowly shook his head in abject denial when Steve's face shimmered in front of him. No. No. He couldn't have done _that_ and his gaze falling down to his hands as his thoughts trailed off into bleakness. It had happened because he'd refused to choose. And now? He didn't know what was real. Danny's warped vision was now swimming even more as he tried to focus and his hands blurred white where they lay in his lap. Despite that, Danny could see that his fingers were shaking badly and that similar vibrations were running up into his forearms.

"Danny?" The whisper was faint and Danny slowly looked back up into Steve's face wonderingly. That gauzy veil was still there but he could see that Steve's lips were moving. He might have been talking for awhile for all Danny knew; his hearing seemed as unreliable as his eyesight for some reason.

 _Steve's face._

How could it be? How could Steve be _here_. He'd watched Steve die. Maybe? _Hadn't he?_

 _Choose._ But Danny hadn't chosen. He'd refused thinking he'd be the sacrifice ... and ... there'd been other _consequences_ ...

 _There had been so much blood, it had been as thick and black as tar. Spilling down Steve's throat from his jugular._ It had been on Danny's fingers ... it had coated the knife. His knife. _It's_ knife. The knife he'd been pressed to use ... to choose ... _or ... he remembered refusing._ He remembered ... _it laughing._ A sluggish, thick guttural sound as black as Steve's blood as spilled to the ground.

 _You'll learn. You've promise. Let me show you ..._

Shaking his head, Danny audibly choked at a lethal memory he didn't know if contrived or real.

"Danny?" Steve called his name again and Danny looked up, squinting through an onslaught of tears and trying to really _see_. This time wracked by doubts and fear, he raised his hand. With trembling fingers he reached out through the veil.

 **H5O* H5O**

Steve sat on the side of Danny's hospital bed watching him struggle with a hopeful heart. Danny'd been fighting that catatonic state so hard and for so long, his breathing was labored and a nurse had come in to affix an oxygen cannula to his nose. In one hand, Steve wanted him to stop and rest. But on the other? He needed Danny back from wherever the hell he'd gone for just shy of two whole days. Thumbing the sweat away from his own upper lip and trying not to dwell on the fact that the Governor's child-hood friend had died whilst still babbling about boogeymen and lost souls, Steve couldn't escape the whispers which were still inside his head. He wanted to deny that something hadn't happened and yet, he simply couldn't. Even as he watched Danny, a part of his mind insisted on wandering away and he cringed at a remembered foul odor and what he'd felt as he'd escaped the place with Danny literally slung over his shoulder.

He startled when Danny's head moved and his eyes closed for few moments. That was a good sign and Steve grinned in relief when Danny's eyes re-opened because they seemed just a little less unfocused.

"Come on buddy, you can do it," he spoke to Danny in a normal voice, calm and authoritative. Grinning like a loon when Danny truly managed to look at him after expending what seemed to be a mammoth amount of effort. Nearly two days had gone by and that hadn't happened before. Steve waited with baited breath, thrilled when Danny didn't fall back into that faraway place but instead, scowled.

 _He scowled_ ... and Steve felt like laughing then as glazed blue eyes flickered across his face.

"There you go. That's better," Steve said, still grinning, alight with anticipation as Danny studied his face. It was easy to see that Danny was confused but in his usual display of obstinacy, digging in harder and refusing to let things go this time. "Good, you just keep on fighting, partner," Steve encouraged when Danny's scowl deepened exponentially as his eyes landed on Steve's mouth and this time, Steve blinked in surprise. Had Danny actually heard or understood him?

"Danny?" He asked, encouraged even when Danny slowly shook his head from side to side. The struggle was real and Steve got it, but he felt a pang of fear when Danny briefly closed his eyes only to open them to stare blankly at his hands ... hands that were beginning to shake very badly.

"No! Hey ... don't ... Danny!" Steve breathed out as Danny's expression altered back to one of that mind-numbing void.

 _Give him. Give. Him!_

Steve shuddered at the low, evil tone he couldn't seem to purge out of his mind. He wondered if Danny was hearing the same thing - but differently. If demands were being made or threats lobbed in whatever place he was stuck inside. Some threat vicious enough which had sent his partner over the edge.

"God what am I thinking?" Steve complained under his breath. No one was there. Danny wasn't hearing anything in the hospital. And the only thing crazy was Steve's insane mental ramblings. Yet, if Steve was still being affected by some remembered _thing_ which he couldn't hope to explain to Lou or to Danny's doctors, then Danny's catatonic state proved that whatever had been threatened or shown to him - no matter how inconceivable - had been one thousand times more traumatic.

The Governor's friend had died. But he was an old man ... anyway, where Danny was not. He was young. But if he were to believe the old man's ramblings, that was precisely why _it_ wanted Danny. Well, that just wasn't going to happen and Steve set his jaw firmly as Danny continued to stare at his hands, his expression saying that he was on the verge of zoning out again. He couldn't allow that to happen.

"Danny ... Danny?" Steve said, his tone far more demanding. He froze when Danny looked up, his eyes still not quite tracking well, but Danny was definitely fighting. Steve had gotten him closer to surfacing even if Danny seemed to be teetering on an iffy edge as his eyes inexplicably filled with tears.

"Danny? What the hell is going on?" Steve murmured softly, not daring to move as Danny reached out to shakily touch his face, his chin, his neck. He was at a loss when Danny gave out with a soft, garbled sound and a tear broke loose to trace down his cheek. Danny's fingers were like ice against his skin as he awkwardly sketched a line with his index finger across Steve's jawline, falling down to his throat. When his fingers rested there, Danny stared even harder at Steve's neck before murmuring so softly that Steve barely heard him. Then, Steve wasn't sure he'd even heard the right thing.

"I didn't choose."

Steve automatically grasped Danny's fingers, holding his cold hand between his two warmer ones. He opened his mouth to ask and then switched gears because, what did it matter? Steve didn't understand what the words meant and as Danny's face changed yet again, Steve was already rightly guessing that Danny wouldn't know either. So it didn't matter; what mattered was making sure that Danny didn't give up.

"It's not real," Steve said. Saying that felt wrong though. Something had been there. Something that neither of them would ever be able to explain. For them, it was certainly real enough and part of Danny was still inside it.

"Killed you," Danny whispered sadly as his fingers curved around the palm of Steve's hand. Steve startled, his eyes widening in surprise.

"No! What?! You ... didn't ... it didn't," Steve objected quickly. He swallowed hard and shook his head in exasperation understanding now why Danny had needed to touch his face ... his _neck_. Until Steve had taken his hand away from his throat, Danny had been almost transfixed.

"It lied ... and it's not here. It wants to hurt us ... other people ... anyone it can. _Hell_ , I don't know why ... that _place?_ Where it is?" Steve stammered like a fool, not knowing what to say. He sounded damned stupid as he fumbled for words and reasons that wouldn't exist in this world. Maybe some day he'd check it out again or try to find out the history of the place in order to find out why it was a place of torment.

Now though? Steve didn't care at all. He only wanted to protect his own and he felt a ripple of anger as Danny's internal struggle continued.

"I don't know what happened, Danno," Steve admitted to the unspoken question rippling across Danny's face. "But you have to let it go ... it's not here." His voice cracked and he gripped Danny's fingers even harder, hard enough to make his friend wince in very real pain.

"It's not here ... I know that much."

"But _it_ h-happened, d-didn't it?" Danny whispered after a long pause. "It was ... real?" Steve made a face as Danny looked around the hospital room before looking hard at Steve's neck as if reassuring himself that Steve was unscathed. Alive. His eyes were more clear with every passing second now, but they were still glassy and plagued by confusion.

" _It_ happened ... but ... I don't understand?"

"Yeah, something happened," Steve agreed softly. "You listen to me." His voice was so low now, only Danny had hope of hearing each secretive word. "Neither do I - I don't get it. But listen to me, you feel this? This is real ...," he said, gesturing with his chin to their joined hands. To make his point, Steve practically crushed Danny's fingers between his own, eliciting a grimace and a hiss of pain.

"A-are you t-trying to break my h-hand?" Danny muttered. He was blinking like mad now, even if his eyes were still filled with tears, while even more streaked his cheeks. This time though, Steve was sure they were tears of relief and he managed a careful grin.

"If it wakes you the hell up ... I'll gladly break it in half," Steve replied as evenly as he could because Danny was returning that hold just as tightly. Hand in hand, they were hanging on to each other. Each commiserating silently on an experience they'd never be able to share to anyone else.

"Good," Danny half-laughed as he hid the sob in his tone by scrubbing his face hard with his free hand. He sniffed and cleared his throat hoarsely before repeating himself. " _Good_." He glanced down to the hand trapped between Steve's two. His knuckles were bleached white by the force of Steve's grip and he smiled wanly into Steve's eyes.

"You do that."

"Whatever it takes, Danno," Steve softly replied. "Whatever it takes."

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	37. Chapter 37 - Tenacious

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _For Ginsteer over on A03 who saw more potential to continue from the prior word of the day ... not beta'd ..._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Tenacious.** 1\. _firm, tight, fast, clinging; strong, forceful, powerful, unshakable, immovable, iron. 2. a tenacious opponent: persevering, persistent, determined, dogged, strong-willed, tireless, indefatigable, resolute, patient, unflagging, staunch, steadfast, untiring, unwavering, unswerving, unshakable, unyielding, insistent; stubborn, intransigent, obstinate, obdurate, stiff-necked; rock-ribbed; pertinacious.

As the kahuna's chants picked up in their intensity, Steve knew her ultimatums weren't being heeded. Her face was flushed, her eyes hardly open as she threw everything she had at ... well, at whatever the hell _it_ was hunkered down. Nothing was really working though. At least not in the way either of them had expected. He'd anticipated some kind of quiet little chat with incense or smudge sticks. An interlude of sorts that would quietly purge _it_ from the depths of the bunker. Steve thought that just maybe the kahuna had too. For all he knew, Nana TashiʻAukai had expected a placid vacating of some benign spirit or another. Instead, she'd riled the damned thing up and was being met with malevolence. He could feel it. Hell, he could sure as hell smell it! And, with a glance towards the orange-jacketed Department of Public Works foreman, Steve could see that the man's original boastful pride was slowly unraveling as he edged back the way they'd come.

"That thing can't be real?" The foreman blurted out before gagging on the putrid smell. "What _is_ it?"

Stunned by the sight himself, Steve watched as the inky shadow elongated within the mouth of the bunker's entrance. It was blacker than he'd remembered - thicker and heavier. Almost tangible now.

"Is that thing for real?" The foreman choked out again, now virtually hiding behind Steve.

"Yup," Steve said, nodding once without taking his eyes off the undulating shape. He'd half assumed nothing would happen. That just maybe he and Danny had experienced some kind of weird anomaly or even over-dramatized things. He'd never assumed it would literally appear without so much as a pause. It was as if the damned thing had been waiting for them; then again maybe it had sensed what was coming when the Kahuna had begun the ho`oma`ema`e `ana ritual.

Steve glanced towards the woman. She refused to back down. She seemed to barely register the malodor. She was committed to the cause to cleanse the grounds before the DPW gated the land off from trespassers and he was duly impressed. Eyes widening, Steve inhaled sharply as it suddenly swooped down to daringly flit around the Kahuna's body.

"Holy shit ... that thing is as mad as hell," the foreman muttered and Steve nodded again. He felt it too. Its anger even resonated within his own head and startled by its evilness, Steve suddenly blinked: it _knew_ him. He began to doubt this plan he'd contrived as the shape nearly obliterated the slight form of the kahuna. He'd no right to ask her to go this far. He'd thought he'd done the right thing by engaging her help. Now though? They all seemed to be in way over their heads and Steve began to sketch out a hasty plan to scrub this particular mission.

Their best bet was to cordon off the whole damned site and get the hell out. Let it stay right where it was!

Nonetheless, Nana TashiʻAukai held her ground fiercely battling it back as it circled her once and then twice. He only knew she battled on by the sound of her voice which never failed in its purpose. Stubborn to the hilt, Steve was still surprised when she seemed to win this initial standoff. But then Steve wondered if she'd really won or if its attention was merely diverted: _to him._

It was Steve's turn to take an accidental step backwards as a question was posed to him. A question that only he could hear.

 _Where is he?_

The words were purred inside his head with a false, child-like falsetto quality. Sounding so innocent, its intensity conversely brought Steve down to a knee as if he'd been punched between the eyes. He gasped out loud as a vise settled around his temples, squeezing harder and harder. A pulse beat pounded relentlessly between his ears and the voice increased in volume.

 _Where? Where! Is he here? Is he?_

It mocked him inside his mind's eye. This thing without shape or substance. Outside of himself, Steve sensed TashiʻAukai moving around him and with a start, Steve knew it had released her to move on to him. This was good. As he held its attention, Steve felt the change happening. The thing wasn't as strong. He felt it loosen ... just a bit ... and he smiled back triumphantly. It was definitely weakening; losing its power.

 _Where?_

It was still strong enough though as it pressed him again and Steve began to gag anew on its putrid stench. Something skittered like cold fingers across his brain and he fell all the way to his hands and knees.

 _I'll have you ...both._

Head hanging low, Steve wavered there, rocking back and forth. He stayed there even as the foreman dashed away leaving TashiʻAukai to bravely joined him on the ground still shouting out native words Steve didn't understand. It budged again and lost its hold even more and yet, Steve was incapable of communicating that to TashiʻAukai. But she must have also sensed it because she refused to stop. For a few blessed moments, Steve felt it blink out and he breathed in, the things' touch completely gone.

"We'll bury you before that happens," Steve hissed out between his clenched teeth as a tendril of evil eked back in. He glanced up, meeting TashiʻAukai's dark brown eyes. She was amazingly calm and just as tenacious as ever. She offered him a smile through her litany of prayers and offerings. "Keep going ... don't stop ... it's working," he added for the Kahuna's sake because, even if it was resisting, her incantations were indeed working.

"Almost," she said breathlessly. "But ... it's ... strong ..." Her voice cut off and she winced as it came slithering back and Steve grimaced as well when it spoke to him. Weaker, yes, but as equally tenacious as the Kahuna.

 _He's here ... yesssssssss?_

Steve thought about Danny then, imagined him up by the car with Lou Grover where he'd insisted that Danny remain until the ritual ended and the fence installation completed. _Shit_ ... he tried to void the thoughts from his mind and failed. Fingers wrapped around his temple, inside and out, and Steve scrubbed lamely at the painful spot.

 _Danny was up top._ Waiting for him and before Steve could cordon off that thought, its broken purr became a pleased sigh and its intrigued whisper cut him loose. TashiʻAukai sounded pleased but Steve was petrified as he tried to shake the eerie feelings away and get to his feet. He heard an almost distant whisper again just as he was forcing himself back up to his feet, his hand on TashiʻAukai shoulder to drag her along with him back to the small dusty area where their cars were parked.

 _Ah. There ...there ... he is!_

It was pleased - triumphant even - and Steve knew before he looked up. In horror, Steve looked up the path to see his partner already halfway down the trail. Danny's jog was light but determined, his gun drawn. Between them, the shadow lurked ominously and Steve heard it whisper its delight.

"No, _no, no, no, no_! Danny get back! What are you doing! Get the hell out of here!" Steve shouted as he dragged TashiʻAukai along with him. "Get out ... stay back!"

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	38. Chapter 38 - Tenacious Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _thanks to Phoebe for the quick sanity check!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny paced relentlessly by the side of the Camaro muttering nonsense under his breath and completely ignoring the amused looks Lou Grover was aiming his way.

Steve had _left_ him. Steve had left him _behind_. Demanded actually that he stay with Lou "up top" as he so blithely put it.

"What makes him so much better at this, huh? So much _more_ prepared?" Danny griped, turning with an unexpected swiftness on a startled Lou Grover. "He was affected too! This is bullshit! What am I supposed to to do, _huh?_ Just sit and stay here like a damned dog?"

"You wanna go down there and take a look then?" Lou drawled calmly. "Seeing as it went so well the first time." Arms folded, he was casually leaning up against the Camaro and refusing to take any of Danny's bait. Danny glared at him; Lou simply stared back, his face far too bland. It was a blatant challenge; tried and true sarcasm from the older man, and Danny felt a flare of anger. But did he want go back down to the old bunker? No, he certainly did _not_ and his teeth nearly chattered inside his head just at the thought. There was a distinct problem though. He also didn't want Steve to be down there alone. It was as if he'd made that lousy choice anyway and had given the damned thing what it had always wanted in the first place! Stuck and annoyed at Steve for telling him to stay put and mad at himself for actually doing it, Danny kept pacing nonstop in a desperate attempt to quell his nerves.

"Well? Do you?" Lou had the gall to ask again and Danny whirled his way in his annoyance.

"I ... what ... down there? Me? No, _no_ ... shut up, Lou!" Danny stammered, feeling the hot red flush creep up his neck when Lou dared smile. But that didn't change his general opinion of things because he should be down there with his partner. Not with some ignorant DPW foreman and a native Kahuna who weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet. What kind of backup was that? Danny should have argued Steve's orders. In fact, Danny should just get off his damned ass and _walk_ down the trail: ghosts and goblins be damned! But as the hair on the back of his neck began to itch, he had a serious commitment issue.

"This is stupid. Why'd he have to do this? _Huh_? Why did he have to go back down there?" Danny bemoaned his partner's decision to keep an eye on the Kahuna as he waffled by the trail head. "She seemed pretty damned competent to me!" He felt helpless to act. His hands were sweating and a deep V of moisture traced down the front of this tee-shirt, staining the dark blue material almost black. He simply couldn't make a decision though.

"I dunno," Lou said from where he roosted, before recanting just a bit. "Well, maybe I do."

"Do you? Well, I sure as hell don't!" Danny complained loudly, drawing the attention of a few of the DPW men. His heart was somewhere up in his throat though and his throat was on the verge of closing. He thought he'd be fine. Had been positive in fact, but Steve had known better and now Danny was all kinds of upset and embarrassed as he loitered helplessly by his own car.

"That Kahuna is fully capable ... I'm sure ... of handling ... it," he muttered as he errantly toed a small rock before kicking it off to the side. "Still ..."

"Calm down," Lou said as Danny began to cough uncontrollably. "They should be almost done and once they are, this whole area will be gated off." Lou gestured over his shoulder to the crew of men from the Department of Public Works who were readying many feet of chainlink fencing.

"A fence isn't going to keep that _thing_ ... in," Danny hissed. He stopped walking then to look down the dusty path in the direction of the old bunker. He could just make out its outline through the heavy jungle. He shivered, taking an unconscious step backwards. To him, the shadow was obvious. It could have been a trick of the light or just his eyes, or even his own imagination, but a dark shadow seemed to have flit like ink across the path. He suddenly felt dizzy as his heart rate spiked.

Down below, he could hear the kahuna, her voice a nonstop timbre of sound without words. Her pitch seemed to have increased and Danny backed up another step. Something was wrong. He should go down and check on them. Steve, a brave DPW foreman, and one lone Hawaiian priestess were not enough to take on whatever the hell it was ... and all of _them_ who'd sometimes whispered chaotic warnings and admonitions. _Them_ ... who lined up to do its bidding.

"We should go down there," Danny murmured to himself, wanting for his legs to at least commit to the action. He shook his head though as he heard the woman's voice rise yet again. Something was absolutely wrong. He could feel it now.

"I don't like this one bit, Lou."

Behind him Lou continued to talk, but his voice had become a drone of sound much like the woman's. Danny scrubbed his fingers surreptitiously through his hair and then over his ear. Bees. _They_ sounded like bees droning inside his head before Lou's voice gelled into actual words again.

"No, but it will keep innocent people out," Lou was saying out loud about the fencing. "Whether or not there's something down there ... whether or not that Kahuna purges all of that bad juju out or not. This isn't a safe place for anyone. It should have been closed off years ago."

Danny snorted in disgust or at least he tried to as his feet finally began to move. "IF there's something down there?" He challenged Lou right back, turning on his heel and aiming himself down the trail. Lou's voice raised in alarm just as the drone intensified and Danny shook his head against the rising crescendo while automatically drawing his gun even though it would be of no help at all. Its familiar weight in his hand was enough to make him at least feel better. The buzzing grew thicker, deafening him, and he knew then what it was all about.

 _They_ were happy and they were letting _it_ know. _He was there ... and he was coming._

Though distant, Danny heard a pleased chortle inside his head before literally sniffing the breeze and stifling a gag. The acrid odor was overwhelming. That combination of wet rot and decaying death made his head spin. Danny paled more but he kept walking, his forearm instinctively covering his nose and mouth. Then he saw it and he had no where to go.

It was supposed to have been bound to that one central spot. The Kahuna had said so ... _so_ , what the hell was it doing coming up the path? Maybe it wasn't real at all. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him because even Danny knew how impressionable he could be at the worst of times. His own imagination had gotten him in trouble enough and pretty much of all his life. But as the shape flowed over the ground and he spied Steve struggling up the hill, hand in hand with the Kahuna, his eyes wide, there was no doubt.

And when Steve saw Danny, he broke into a long-legged sprint, almost ruthlessly toting TashiʻAukai along. To her benefit, the Kahuna seemed to be steadfastly chanting the entire time despite being off balance and quite incapable of really keeping up with his partner.

"Danny ... get out of there, man!" He heard Lou shout out his name once just before the big man cursed in surprise. From the area above, a faint sound reached Danny's ears. Something akin to a small stampede as the DPW crew scattered in various directions. Not a one towards where Danny was on the trail though.

"Shit," Danny muttered under his breath. If they all could see it too then it was real enough. He couldn't take his eyes off of it either. Horrified and mesmerized at the same time, he knew Steve was yelling at him, too. To stop and go back. His shouts were enough for Danny to at least slow his jog but then the thing seemed to stop midway, shifting and pulsing; maybe even beckoning him and Danny paused entirely. Steve was gaining ground on it with TashiʻAukai at his side. But the thing had stopped entirely.

Danny grinned.

 _It_ couldn't go any further.

So, it was limited then. Cautiously, Danny took a step forward but then moved to the side, taking a parallel track. It followed him but its distance didn't change.

"You're stuck, you bastard," Danny said while watching the pitch black of the shadow elongate in front of him. His private celebration didn't last long though because it shifted again, narrowing into a rivulet that flowed away from him and Danny blanched.

 _Am I?_ It whispered haughtily, its tone smug. _Am I? Or, is it you who is ...stuck?_

"Shit," Danny muttered because it was moving back and directly towards Steve. This wasn't what he thought would happen. Danny hadn't anticipated the damned thing doing something like this at all.

"Hey!" He shouted as he strode forward, breaking the invisible line within two or three steps. "Hey! Get the hell back here! I'm talking to you!"

It didn't stop though. If anything it picked up speed, overtaking his stunned partner. It was far too late for Danny to do a blessed thing as Steve fell to his knees, his finger scrabbling wildly at his neck. For the first time since her incantations had begun, TashiʻAukai lost her voice. Her resolve faltered and she fell to her knees, her hands reaching through thing in a vain attempt to help Steve breathe ... to do something.

"No!" Danny shouted as he bolted forward, eyes wide as Steve's face began to turn a sickly dark shade of red.

 _No? No ... What?_ The thing taunted him while it laughed, the sound grating dangerously inside his head.

"Get away from him!" Danny shouted back. "Let him go!"

 _Will you choose now?_ The thing asked coyly, toying even more with Danny as Steve began to lose consciousness. _Will you?_

"It's me, you wa- ..." Danny started to say but that was as far as he got when the thing released Steve and darted back to drape itself over Danny from head to foot. With a dim sense of deja vu, Danny knew this had happened before. Whatever the thing wanted - even if it didn't make much sense - this is how Danny had blacked out before. This was how he'd gotten lost inside with it and this was exactly how it had made him watch Steve die ... the first time.

Struggling to breathe through a rising sense of panic, Danny couldn't move or see beyond its thick cowl. _Remember_? It asked as it draped itself around him, hanging on his body. A weight which he could literally feel. Its thoughts and unearthly promises were now his again, deafening everything else around him.

 _Will you choose now?_ It asked again and Danny remembered what it had done to Steve, vaguely cognizant that the knife hadn't been real. That Steve hadn't actually been killed by it because he hadn't made a choice and he almost felt a sense of relief until it taunted him.

 _Are you sure?_ It asked him as it seemed to read his very thoughts. _Are you sure I won't do it ... now ... for real?_

Wondering why it wanted this of him, Danny grimaced against the smokey vapors which whipped around his head, entered his nostrils, skirted around his lips. Cringing as one, much like a gentle finger, traced his cheek, then his cheekbone, only to circle round to cup the back of his neck. Like a thin necklace, it joined in the front and Danny dropped his gun as he lurched onto his toes, drawn up higher by his neck.

 _Kill for me._

The noose tightened, slowly cutting off his air and Danny gurgled his hands going to his neck to find nothing there at all.

 _Forsaken beliefs. Lost causes. Holy wars. Kill for me._

The gurgle he heard was his.

 _Impossible ... loyalties. Kill for me._

'No. I won't ...' Danny thought tenaciously even if it felt as if his toes were completely off the ground now. He refused to choose to kill as he was assaulted with the most horrific of images. He dug in refusing to believe it could do anything to anyone even as something changed around him and the thing chuffed an angry sound. Danny choked as it flung an image of Steve at him, broken and bloodied. Dead. He fought it as it paged through his mind like it was nothing, showing him the same images now with Grace ... Charlie ... warning him that it was capable.

'Why do you need me...,' Danny asked it nastily. '... if _you_ can kill? You're ... nothing.'

 _Kill for me._

It growled at him and Danny wondered just how true it was. Could this thing kill? Could it kill by frightening someone to death? But could it really ... kill? It growled again at him in a rage and Danny choked as his breath was cut-off entirely. He didn't understand as the smell of tannic blood filled his nostrils. Sticky and warm ... the stench flowed over him ... taking over all of his senses. He saw red flowing within the blackness of it until ... some change made it angry again ... it faltered ... as

...something ... good ... flowed over Danny and he grabbed for it with his mind's eye. _Clean. White. Pure._ TashiʻAukai was there and Danny grinned boldly into the thing's darkness. He sensed its hold loosen and he pushed harder, fighting it off for a moment before it turned its attention back at him. Once more Danny couldn't breathe as it spewed angry words at him.

'I won't do it,' Danny thought. 'You can't ... you're nothing.'

 _Kill for me. Or I show you ... an image of a blood-soaked Charlie filled his mind ..._ he whimpered in disbelief ... and then Charlie was gone. The thing faltered. It blinked out, leaving Danny a juddering mess. Its resolve faltered for a second and Danny felt it waver. Longer now ... long enough for him to see the faint outline of Steve's silhouette in front of his face where pitch black was giving way to a more gossamer veil of a whitish-gray. TashiʻAukai was gaining ground and Danny could now feel Steve's hands on his arms and then on his face. He was pulled, tugged and torn away. Somewhere, somehow he heard a woman's voice - TashiʻAukai voice - shrill and demanding.

 _He could still die._ Danny knew that much as a tug of war began about him - around him - for him - he was plainly stuck within two different worlds.

"Danny!" Steve's voice was far away but there and Danny chose to follow it as the thing's hold began to give way.

There was another sharp tug, this one more inside his head and Danny winced in agony at the same time _it_ shrieked. It was going to find a way to kill him as its final prize. It clawed at him and abused his soul even as it began to fade. Danny wheezed in one sharp, whistling breath and then another. He still felt its anger and its hatred but it was weakening ... withdrawing ... running back to the bunker. TashiʻAukai was chasing it back with a vengeance of her own. Banishing it and forcing it to disperse into splintered bits of shade and shadow.

Danny lost track of time and place as he watched it go, painfully still attached and drawn along with bits and pieces of what remained. In a dead faint as it vainly fought to keep him, Danny started to fall like a puppet whose strings were being sliced apart one by one. As the final connection was severed, he fell hard and fast, half wondering that it was going to hurt when he hit the ground and yet, that didn't happen. Instead, his cheek fell against rough material. He sensed that the sickening malodor was gone, replaced by that of man-made nylon mixed with the scents of stale sweat and what was most probably cordite and gun oil.

 _Steve_.

He still felt disconnected though. His eyes refused to open as his body fought against the shock of it all.

"I got you." Danny heard Steve say practically in his ear and relieved, Danny tried to at least mouth Steve's name. But he failed as he was bolstered up into his partner's arms and fingers drilled into the side of his neck.

"Danny? Breathe ... come on ... breathe for me!" Steve chanted and Danny frowned because he was ... _wasn't he?_ "Danny! Shit ... Lou! I need an ambulance ... now!"

Eyes closed, Danny's head lolled against his partner's shoulder, his cheek practically melded to the very real material of Steve's heavy tac-vest. He felt himself laid flat on his back as calloused fingers once again groped at his neck, seeking his carotid artery to be sure.

"Breathe damn you!" Steve shouted at him again and Danny fought to argue that he was ... he _was_ ... confused when he felt Steve's hands on his forehead and chin, tipping his head back to conceivably open his airway more. Danny wanted to tell Steve to stop. To stop worrying because he was okay.

"Breathe Danny," Steve whispered. His tone was desperate, pleading. "Please ... it's gone ... so, just ... breathe."

Danny was sure that he _was_ breathing even as Steve began to give him mouth to mouth resuscitation and he saw himself from above, arms flung wide, hands palm up, his pallor ashen around lips turned blue.

From high in the air, floating calmly, Danny simultaneously saw Steve pause in his reps. He felt those strong fingers checking his neck while Lou elevated his legs and called for that bus. Below on the ground, Danny watched himself twitch - he tried again to tell Steve that he was fine because yes, it was gone - instead though as Steve bent again over his body, everything just stopped.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	39. Chapter 39 - Tenacious Part 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _I want to thank everyone for the wonderful, supportive comments. I appreciate each and every one. :-) And Phoebe - once again thank you for the read through - multiple sanity checks - suggesting to add more of the Kahuna was an insightful gem!_

 _Of course though, that suggestion may have led to this NOT being the final chapter - (shoot me now). Please._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"I don't know what happened!" TashiʻAukai said to Steve. "And ... I don't know what it was ... it was just ... evil." She was breathless, pale and looked near to tears as she hugged her arms across her thin chest. She was trembling badly, beginning to feel the after affects of an enormous adrenalin rush.

Steve could only nod as he knelt by his partner's side, checking Danny's pulse rate and willing him to continue to breathe. TashiʻAukai was standing next to him. She shifted on her feet nervously and soon, her hand was on his shoulder, warm and meant to be soothing. He wasn't going to be able to find a calmer place until Danny was okay though.

"Is he okay?" TashiʻAukai asked. "I'm sorry. It was strong and ... and I don't know what it was."

Steve nodded again, praying that Danny was really okay even if he hadn't opened his eyes yet. Steve felt her fingers twitch in relief and a sympathetic hope. She was young and needed reassurance, both verbal and tactile but Steve wasn't quite able of providing either to the Kahuna. He knew that this - whatever it was - had been an unexpected event. And not only unexpected, but far more powerful than either of them had anticipated. If Steve hadn't experienced this evil first-hand, he'd never even considered looking for a kahuna. But he had and so he did[ and finding TashiʻAukai had been easy enough. She came from a long line of native Hawaiian spiritual healers and shaman. Her pedigree was impressive. Her experience though in _this_? Limited. And why would her resume be of a deep thing in this day and age? Steve was sure that exorcisms and their ilk were far and few between.

Happily. _Thankfully_. In fact, Steve was would bet his life that TashiʻAukai blessed weddings, homes and babies far more frequently.

"It's all right," Steve pushed out for her benefit because he owed her something. Actually, they all owed TashiʻAukai a great deal if he could just wrap his own head around what had just happened. He'd tried to explain it the first time to her - the fear, the horror - and yet, she'd still been intrigued and wholly vested. He'd never guessed this though; that it would fight back and resist as tenaciously as it had. And now? It seemed to have once more succeeded in hurting Danny and Steve wasn't sure just how badly this time. Incapable of taking his eyes off his partner, Steve remained on his knees even as Lou Grover joined them.

"They're no more than five minutes out," Lou shared, referring to the ambulance. He hunkered down by Steve and placed his hand on Danny's opposite arm. "He's ... so cold ... what the hell? Steve?"

"I know," Steve murmured. He'd done CPR and Danny was breathing on his own, his pulse rate was slow but steady. And yet? Danny's skin was ice-cold, his complexion ashen. The residual ache around his own throat was a deathly reminder of what nearly happened and Steve's hands slowly became fists of frustration.

"I think it tried to take him with it," TashiʻAukai murmured and Steve felt the shock of that statement clear into the pit of his stomach. It was true. That was exactly what it had tried to do and only then, did he deign to turn just enough to stare at the woman.

"What the hell does that mean?" He knew what it meant though - the damned thing had almost managed to do it - and his voice was distinctly more harsh than it should have been. He _knew_ and his expression must have communicated that because the kahuna backed away from him quickly a millisecond before she recovered her equilibrium. Her mouth adopted a stern line and her brow furrowed. She looked almost angry with him as she stepped forward again.

"Let me try something," she said. "It can't hurt ... maybe it will help him. No. It _will_ help him."

Then it was as if Steve didn't exist. TashiʻAukai raised her hands, closed her eyes and began to whisper nothing more than a soft susurrus of sound. A prayer? A wish? Here and there, Steve caught a native word he thought he understood. She'd been brave and had held her ground from the word go and was still determined to do her best to help. Steve certainly appreciated everything she'd done; she'd single-handedly managed to eradicate them of the damned thing. And now she was bound and determined to make sure Danny was safe - would be safe - as her voice took on deeper notes.

Nonetheless, he wasn't wholly able to relax _because_ of Danny. Steve felt they'd won but until Danny woke up, they'd lost - the thing was gone, but they were potentially faced with far worse consequences. As his desperation continued to rise along with TashiʻAukai's intonations, Steve looked back down into Danny's face, ashen and far too lax. Nothing was happening; nothing had changed. Despite the current steadier rise and fall of his chest, Danny looked ... _dead_. This was the threat of catatonia times two and Steve refused to allow this to happen.

 _This_ with Danny was unacceptable in every way possible and without thinking, he slapped Danny across the face. _Hard_ , almost brutally.

"Wake up!" He hissed through his teeth as he slapped the opposite side of his partner's face. "Danny ... wake the hell up!" Steve was suddenly shouting, drowning out TashiʻAukai's voice. Danny's head rolled from one side to the other, twin red marks already beginning to mar each of his cheeks. Under his hands though, Danny didn't react at all.

"McGarrett!" Lou yelled. "What in the hell are you doing?! _Steve_! Stop ... _stop_!" He cursed loudly when Steve ignored him, opting to solidly backhand Danny across the face for a third time. Behind them, TashiʻAukai faltered and stopped her chanting, for the first time, seemingly unsure of what to do.

"He's breathing, man ... what are you doing?! The bus is only a few minutes out ... I can hear it," Lou shouted. He was nearly nose to nose with Steve, breathing just as heavily, eyes wide in stunned disbelief. But as Steve readied himself again to strike out, the big man inserted himself bodily between them, trying to shield Danny's face.

"Are you out of your mind?! Just ... _Steve_ ... what're you _doing_?"

"Waking him the hell up!" Steve finally shouted back, upset and angry as he pushed Grover aside, ever watchful for a sign that Danny was hearing him. There was no way in hell that he was going to allow Danny the opportunity to sink into that damned catatonic state! Or worse if the kahuna might be right. He'd heard the spirit or demon - the _thing_ \- the first time and now he'd felt it. Been threatened by it. Damn near been throttled to death by it and Steve knew at least a decent part of the hell which his partner had been subjected to. The thing was gone, but TashiʻAukai was right about how far it had tried to take his partner, and Steve sure wasn't going to lose Danny now.

"He's like ... _ice_ ... and he has to wake up!" Steve continued to yell in his desperation. "Lou, we have to wake him up!" But as he pulled his arm back again, Lou grabbed at his shoulders, grappling with him to finally and very painfully dig his fingers into Steve's right arm to stop him.

"Lou! I swear ... get off me!" Steve hissed as he refused to back down or ... give up. He practically snarled at the older man because Lou just didn't understand. "I can't ... he can't ... we're gonna lose him, Lou!"

"No! No, we're not! Steve ... that's enough! Just stop it ... _look,_ " Grover pleaded with him. His eyes were large, liquid and full of empathy. He gestured with his chin down towards Danny.

"Just _look_ at him."

"Why? _What_?" Steve shook his head, still trying to free his arm, eyes blinking madly as he tried to focus on what Lou was saying to him. Afraid that he didn't have the time to listen. "What? Lou ..."

Steve took that moment though to look down at his partner. He saw it then and his heart practically stopped beating inside his chest.

 _Danny was looking at him._

Or, at least his eyes were partly open. Steve could see just enough of the pale blue irises peeking out from under Danny's lashes. Steve gasped softly, stunned by what he'd missed. Behind him, TashiʻAukai had resumed her song, her voice brighter, stronger and just as determined and he spared her a quick glance, surprised at the jubilant look in her dark brown eyes. His mouth gaped wide and then closed as he refocused back on his partner. Danny's eyes were just barely open. It was a good sign. There was no recognition though and Steve just couldn't let go of things entirely - it was far too soon to count a victory. Shrugging his way past Lou's hands, Steve made a decision.

"Lou, help me ...get him up ... let's go. Come on." With a grunt to hide how his voice was breaking, Steve buried his hands in the front of Danny's shirt to heft him into a seated position. It was alarming how much Danny's head lolled so loosely on his neck despite the sound of a breathy moan which left his partner's lungs. Based upon what he could hear, the ambulance had arrived up top and they'd get Danny to the hospital. It was the logical next step but Steve wasn't sure what anyone was gong to do for him. Other than Danny's now overly reddened face, there wasn't a mark on him. Everything was _inside_ .. and saying that would make Steve sound the fool. Explaining the handprints on his partner's cheeks would sound - and appear to be - an incomprehensible abuse.

"S-tve?" The murmur was soft, raspy and very faint. Steve heard it though and with one hand still anchoring the middle of Danny's t-shirt to keep him upright, Steve used the other to cup his partner's neck when it sagged to the side.

"Yeah, Danno?" Steve asked. He swallowed hard, searching Danny's face desperately, feeling nauseous in his relief as his partner's face screwed up in abject confusion. "Hey buddy ... you're okay ... can you look at me, _huh_?"

Under his hand, Danny's skin was still ice-cold but he was finally putting up a fight to surface. Steve glanced over to Lou, not surprised to see that the older man was battling a few emotions of his own as he propped up Danny's seated position using the sheer breadth of his body.

"Thank god," Lou whispered as he gently rubbed Danny's shoulder. "Scared the crap out of me, Danny. You sure did."

"Lou? St've? S'okay?" Danny questioned them weakly. His head bobbled awkwardly beneath Steve's hand as he tried to focus on first Lou's and then Steve's face before needing to give up. Based on his expression, fully coping with the here and now was still going to be a lost cause of sorts. Danny was confused, exhausted and it was simply going to take some time for him to be able to center. And right then, Steve had all the time in the world.

"Yeah. We're good. It's all good, buddy," Steve replied. "I'm right here ... everything's going to be okay. It's gone. We're gonna get you home ... fix you up in no time."

"Let's get him up top; ambulance, Steve," Lou reminded him and Steve nodded in agreement. They'd do that and get Danny safely home.

"What's the matter?" Steve asked gently, briefly pausing as Danny blinked owlishly into his face. He was still supporting Danny's head with his hand, the other still keeping Danny's body upright by using his wad of his t-shirt. But Danny's expression was completely puzzled as he shakily traced his cheek with his fingertips.

"Danno?" Steve pressed worriedly. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

Scowling and then possibly managing to glare at Steve almost suspiciously, Danny pursed his lips. He rested his head in Steve's hand, closed his eyes, and breathed out a single syllable.

 _"Ow."_

Steve tried to smile, the attempt short-lived when Danny's eyes skidded shut, his head falling even heavier in Steve's palm. The time for waiting was officially over and Steve lurched forward as he gathered Danny into his arms, Lou already moving to help. TashiʻAukai's murmurings never-ending.

 _ **~ to be continued. ~ (of course it is ... on and on and on ...)**_


	40. Chapter 40 - Tenacious Part 4

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _phew - the struggle to get here w the muse was painful as Phoebe can attest. I need to thank Phoebe one last time and also Swifters for additional sanity checks and assurances that this chapter was on track. Thank you to all who have commented/reviewed ... I appreciate each word._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Even with his eyes closed, Danny knew that Steve was watching him - and how could he blame him? While at the hospital, Danny had seen fit to lapse in and out of consciousness far too many times to count. He'd never roused long enough to provide his doctors any clues to support a valid medical reason for his fluctuating vitals or decreased body temperature. The end result had been a retinue of baffled medical professionals, who combined, could only treat his symptoms and who were incapable of offering a credible prognosis to his partner.

Steve without answers he could rely upon, was never a happy camper.

Danny's lips twitched briefly when he heard Lou sigh. The big man was equally displeased. He was currently exasperated by Danny's ongoing silence which was admittedly an uncommon occurrence. These little gaffs were being tallied up by Lou and Steve, one by one. Stored ammunition so to speak should Danny show signs of reverting to some odd catatonic state or, god help them, sprout wings ... or horns. Only god knew.

He should in the very least open his eyes and try to act more normal. Sitting there on Steve's lanai though, tucked under a blanket and still shivering, Danny just couldn't do it. He was mired in dark memories and blacker words. He was incapable of getting beyond a dim memory of having looked down at himself, Steve bent over him and then ... the blackest of holes. A sense of falling into a vacuum until this more recent series of disjointed wakings occurred at the hospital. Still deeply unsettled, Danny simply lacked the wherewithal to open his eyes or speak. Lou's long and aggrieved second sigh bespoke of the same reticence, too. Truth be told, not one of them knew what to say or do. So just maybe, sitting there together on the lanai was going to be good enough.

Feet up and wrapped in a blanket despite the heat of the sun, Danny tried to relax and get comfortable. But he was still so cold. His hands were especially like ice, so much so that they held an arthritic-like ache. He continued to shiver uncontrollably, still feeling that unnatural chill deep within his bones. The hospital hadn't been able to warm him up entirely and when the doctors insisted that this vitals were holding and near normal, Danny had simply stopped complaining. Steve had watched him with a worried expression, saying nothing to counter his eventual silence. He hadn't even argued Danny's decision to check himself out to recover at home. After all, with the doctors even insisting he was technically fine, why should he take up a perfectly good hospital bed?

He sensed why he was cold though. Steve knew why he stayed so cold, too. And Tashi; she also had known. Because of her knowledge, she'd never left his side; she'd remained steadfast, humming words he didn't know while he was awake. Singing softly even when he'd lost consciousness; maintaining a connection and providing him a way back as something inside him argued _where_ he belonged.

Somewhere along the line and at the first chance of a lull in his care, she'd quietly snuck to his bedside to whisper a few words of solace. She'd fastened an amulet around his neck. Something small and discreet, hanging by a thin, golden chain, tucked under his shirt. He hadn't asked what it was or what it might be for; he intuitively knew that the kahuna was leaving him with a small talisman. A token offering of added protection. Half-aware, he'd watched impassively through heavy eyes. At the time, he'd accepted the gift silently and then lost his battle to stay conscious without sharing a word of thanks. Then, he'd forgotten all about it by the time he'd been released.

And yet, he should have known better because Nana TashiʻAukai was an extraordinary woman from an extraordinary line of wise people. As he sat on the lanai shivering, Danny was becoming more aware of its ambient warmth. He found himself focusing on it, relishing how it rested heavily against his skin. As another strong chill wracked his body, Danny scrubbed at his face with both his hands, trying to rid himself more of his morose feelings. He felt TashiʻAukai's gift move under his shirt. Its weight remained warm against his skin. Noticeably warmer even than the sun. It was just taking a damnably long time to disperse through to his arms and legs. Danny scowled at that: the amulet was taking too long to warm him? Whatever made him think that about it?

Impossible - or maybe not so much.

Suddenly sick and tired of being stuck inside his head, Danny kicked the blanket off his legs and forced his eyes open. The amulet swayed soothingly against him and he looked up, staring out across the ocean, drawn to the blue of the horizon. The sun was bright and reflecting sharply off the water. By all accounts, the day was beautiful and ... warm. Hot actually and - he suddenly _wanted_ to be in the water. Briefly questioning the craving, he sat there for a moment. Danny looked at the water again and the amulet lay heavier around his neck. TashiʻAukai's gift bumped him again and an even strong shiver shook his frame. A longing to go into the water made him scowl in confusion.

No, _impossible_. It was only that he needed to be moving to warm up and besides, laying around feeling sorry for himself was getting him nowhere.

"What's wrong?" Lou asked as Danny got to his feet.

"Not a damned thing," Danny said, making a beeline for the beach, tugging his shirt off over his head as he went. "I'm going for a swim."

"Say what?" Lou asked. "Now? _You_?"

The older man paused, mouth hanging open as Danny walked right by him without further answer. There was a little doubt that Steve would be hot on his heels too, wondering about his behavior. Worrying if Danny was all right because Danny Williams and "a day at the beach" were not typically synonymous, one with the other.

Danny made it as far as knee-deep, before the taller of his two self-appointed guardians was by his side, concern virtually dripping off him.

"Ah?" Steve's questioning exhale made Danny chuff a soft sound; bemused when Steve's shadow briefly blocked the sun. Without looking at his friend's face, Danny merely pushed off through a small wave to kick himself into deeper waters.

Without a word and just as Danny had expected, Steve matched him stroke for stroke. At least, Danny thought, as his shape loomed near, that Steve showed him some consideration by moderating his pace. Slower than he could easily manage but not too overly obvious as to offend. Close but also not too close, lingering just off Danny's right side, no doubt worried and confused.

Around his neck, Danny felt the small amulet occasionally bumping into his chest. Now that he was in the water, the warmth from it seemed to intensify. It spread through his whole body and finally into his hands, displacing the cold ache. He had no idea what the kahuna had whispered over him in the hospital. But maybe this had been her goal the entire time; maybe this had been what her words had meant. Allowing a new urge to drive him forward, Danny dove down deeper under the water. Eyes closed and swimming harder, ears popping, he stayed under for as long as he dared just focusing on the feel of the small pendant as it alternately tugged against the current or bounced lightly against his chest. It felt good - comforting - warming him through. When he surfaced though, gasping and sucking in air, Steve was mere inches from his shoulder, his face creased with worry, one hand poised near Danny's arm.

Despite being so damnably courteous, Danny realized that Steve had been - still was - on the verge of thinking he needed rescuing. This hadn't been the kind of rescuing he'd needed though.

"Really? I'm okay," Danny said. "I'm fine ..."

"Really? You're okay?" Steve asked. Sarcasm aside, he was completely unconvinced and he waved his hand just over the top of the water to prove his point. "This ... is fine? Yeah. So, this isn't ... _well_ , it's not like you at all. _So_ ..."

"So ... I'm fine, you can stand down now, soldier," Danny interrupted while trying to calmly tread in place. He was feeling better but was still a bit off and trying not to stare blindly at the horizon. Forcing himself to focus on Steve's face, he mimicked Steve's gesture about where they were. "Or, _swim_ ... I guess we're swimming, right? Aren't you always harping on me to get in the water and work off some steam? Well, here I am working it off ... you should be happy ... over the moon." He tried to smile and offer Steve some kind of reassurance, joke about it even. He knew he had done the exact opposite though when his friend's face darkened.

" _Swimming_. And yeah, _why_? This isn't your ... style ... or your thing. You've always made that pretty damned clear. Our _thing_ is arguing that very fact - not you giving in to me. And just to clarify something else one more time, Danno, soldiers are in the damned Army," Steve replied as his temper came to the fore.

"They don't swim a helluva lot - you _never_ swim at all except under duress - so what's going on with you?"

Based on his tone, anger was the only way for Steve McGarrett, control freak extraordinaire, to express his fear and worry because he least liked surprises or those things deemed unpredictable. And as far as unpredictable went, his last few days had been fraught with the unknown. He sure as hell didn't need for Danny to get lumped into one of those buckets.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

Groaning softly in defeat, Danny wound up shaking his head because he didn't really know. He was warmer but still felt a bit disconnected and had followed an obscure urge: no more, no less. Then again, everything about it was a pretty big deal.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Seemed ... it seemed like ...," he paused, considering what might sound at least like an intelligent response. But as he gauged where they were in relation to the distant shore, Danny didn't have a good enough reason. An unidentified urge? The stupid bauble around his neck that for some reason, was making him feel better?

"I don't know, Steve."

Steve stayed quiet. Just staring at him and Danny heaved in a long, suffering sigh when he realized that he was grasping the amulet and worrying the smooth surface between his fingers. Steve wasn't staring at him as much as watching what he was doing and, working hard at it, Danny unclenched his fingers.

"Let's go in," Danny muttered under his breath. He turned at the same time, bobbing with the heavier swells, but Steve stopped him.

"We should talk," Steve said. "At least, I need to talk ... I'm just ..."

"Freaked out?" Danny interrupted.

"Yeah, freaked out," Steve agreed. "That ... and scared half to death. Worried about you ... what happened. What I had to do. And now? Worried if you're really as okay as you keep saying you are."

Danny bit his lip, tasting the bitterness of the saltwater. _What Steve had to do._

He got stuck on those words. Danny thought he'd dreamed it all, but he hadn't and he sure didn't need Steve to clarify what he meant now. He remembered Steve slapping his face. That he remembered and he still had the sore cheek and ragged tongue to back it up. But the _other_? That bone-deep chill threatened again, arguing where he belonged.

That dim memory of having looked down at himself was founded in what should have been an impossible reality. But it had happened even if he wanted to deny it. Danny looked at Steve reading the stricken expression just right. He opened his mouth to speak and then wound up finding nothing to say at all. The thing that hadn't been a _dream_ came back with a clarity it shouldn't have at all: a view of Steve from above ... dark head bowed as he administered mouth to mouth to Danny because he'd ... _died_?

The Kahuna's amulet began to lay even more heavily around his neck. Warm. Tangible. _Alive_. Nothing at all burdensome, quite the opposite, as if it were trying to send him a message and quell his fear. He felt drawn to it and took another moment to trace its thin chain and then the oval shape with his fingertips. He wasn't cold anymore but he still had a problem to resolve. And if not a problem, a few things to reconcile within himself.

Nana TashiʻAukai was an extraordinary woman and just maybe, he was thinking too hard. He'd had a frightening, irrational experience. Yet, he was still trying to define a rational answer for it. Muffled words echoed in his head - first, _its_ voice and then TashiʻAukai's - and Danny practically cringed, his fingers spasming around the small amulet, relishing its steady warmth.

 _"Please ... it's gone ... so, just ... breathe."_ Steve's voice last of all. _A vision of a dark head bent over a deathly still body_ ...

"Let's go in," Danny repeated, afraid to look Steve in the eye, evading Steve's staying hand this time... just barely at that as he struck out for shore. "I want to go in ... I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

" _Danny_!" He ignored Steve's worried shout as well, opting instead to focus on the beach and trying to figure out just what the hell was going on if it was really gone.

"I'm fine," Danny said before Lou could ask him as he hit the beach. He kept walking, grabbing his discarded shirt off the chair he'd been sitting in and made a beeline for the house. He never reached the door though because his submarine freak of a partner had evidently gone into hyperdrive. Steve was practically on top of him as he reached the lanai.

"Freaking aquaman," Danny complained as Steve headed him off before he could go any further.

"You're actually not too shabby yourself," Steve said quietly. "Even if I did let you have a head start." The words might have been lighter than they'd just shared between them, but the tension was still palpable and neither of them were smiling.

"Yeah, so...," Danny screwed up his face, trying desperately not to go there, but then simply giving up. "I think I died ... and I think I saw you," he blurted unexpectedly. "I saw you ... I saw _me_ ..." Danny stopped in his tracks then, struggling for words even though Steve new precisely what he was referring to. "... the CPR thing ... that happened. It did happen, right?"

"Yeah," Steve whispered, his voice sounding hoarse. "It did. It happened."

Danny clenched and then unclenched his hands repeatedly, not knowing how to process the information. He'd known it all along. He had. But his universe was now a complicated intertwining of things which simply didn't belong together.

"What happened after that?" Danny asked carefully, a roll of his eyes darting back up to Steve's face and daring him to come up with something sarcastic about happy endings and all that since Danny was obviously standing right in front of him. Out of newly developed habit, Danny wrapped his fingers around the amulet. It was unnaturally warm. _Vibrant_ and virtually pulsing now after his impromptu swim.

"What did she do?" He whispered, the simple question meaning so much more because Danny wasn't so sure that he should be standing right there, in front of his best friend.

"TashiʻAukai ..." Steve breathed out the name like a song and then grinned. His gaze lingered on the gift which lay so comfortably around Danny's neck before his eyes met Danny's. There were always going to be questions but for Steve, what he said next was enough. His grin turned into a broad smile, one which lit up his entire face and made his eyes shine.

"What did she do? She destroyed it, Danno, and then ... _then_ ... she brought you home ... "

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	41. Chapter 41 - Personified

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _Not beta'd; just came out of the blue. Steve decides to do some work in the restaurant alone which turns out to be NOT so good of an idea._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Personified**_ _. represent (a quality or concept) by a figure in human form. An attribute a personal nature or human characteristics to (something nonhuman). Represent or embody._

It was his first time waking with a clear head. Really _waking_ where he opened his eyes on his own accord and actually knew where he was - _when_ he was. He felt a familiar flicker of disappointment about the first, but content with the latter even if he couldn't yet remember the why or how parts of it.

Waking up in a hospital was always going to be a tremendous disappointment. Remembering _when_ he was without automatically spouting his name, rank and serial number, was satisfaction personified even if he wasn't quite sure why. There were other wins making themselves known now, too, despite being alone. Albeit it wasn't that long ago - maybe just an hour or two - he remembered the last time he woke. Not actually a win per se, but he remembered that it hadn't been one of his grandest moments. The fact that he was alone right then shouldn't have surprised him either and yet it did. Or maybe that was just another flavor of disappointment because his gaff had been too much for his emotionally charged partner to handle. Who could ever have guessed that his brain's mental obstinacy to make his lips recite his name, rank and serial number as ingrained safety mechanisms could have upset his partner so much? Maybe something else had happened and he couldn't remember _that_?

Steve's brief sense of success began to leave him. He began to feel uneasy. Something else had happened ... Danny had gotten upset with him ... he'd walked out of the room ... and now Steve began to completely doubt his knowledge of the _when_.

The bedside remote was just under his hand. Using his thumb and minimizing the movement of his entire upper body, Steve raised the head of the hospital bed to get a better look from his room into the brightly lit corridor. He promptly groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. The change in position caused him a ripple of pain and it took him a few minutes to conquer it enough so he could focus away from himself. Breathing through his nose and out through his mouth, the nausea was the last to go. When it did though and he could breathe easier, Steve could clearly hear the hum of voices and activity, yet nothing of that seemed to be near his room. Chastising himself for feeling so letdown when Danny was probably and very justifiably upset, Steve rested his head back and closed his eyes. There'd be nothing he could do about it until the man came back and they could both just talk it all out. Whatever had happened, they'd talk it through and figure it out. They always did and Steve smiled to himself at that thought.

He'd have some work cut out for him in the talking department. Danny would actually wind up talking _at_ him and he'd never get a word in edgewise. Steve wouldn't be up to holding a coherent conversation either because in all reality, he didn't have a leg to stand on to defend himself. Both figuratively and literally. Figuratively since he wasn't sure what he'd done, though he had an uneasy feeling that it had to do with him not waiting for his partner. Steve would deserve every scowl and every angry, blame-worthy word and Steve's small smile dried up as he quietly realized that he couldn't remember what he'd supposed to wait for Danny to help him with. And due to that, Steve was now left to tally up all his aches and pains.

He at least knew what a doctor had explained during a rare minute of Steve's lucidity and that was where his literal problems came in.

Twisted left leg. Sprained back. Whiplash. Concussion. All superficial enough but when packaged into such a nice tidy bow of woe, debilitating enough too.

The tightness in his upper back and neck would affect the smallest move from an accidental sneeze or cough to sitting down or standing up. The soft tissue damage in his leg would happily remind him that walking would be an equally painful trial and tribulation. But the throbbing ache at the base of his skull was worse than his prior need to repeat his military designations. It held hands and skipped down a sneaky and sickly little path with the strained muscles in his neck and Steve groaned softly to himself.

Other than physical therapy, he could take regular exercise off his schedule for at least a week. Maybe more. Probably more.

Keeping his eyes closed, Steve rubbed his queasy stomach though the blankets. He felt awful. He hoped he might be due for some kind of pain medication; the mere though of needing to dry heave into a small basin brought tears to his eyes because he could imagine the agony he'd cause himself. He'd be at least smart to admit defeat and S tay ahead of his tidy little bow of misery. But just as he considered pressing the nurse's call station button to ask, his ears picked up a familiar voice.

"Isn't it time you checked in on him?" Danny was asking. His voice waxed and waned where Steve caught just a few of the next words. Danny must have been stalking some poor member of the medical staff in the corridor. Without too much imagination, Steve could envision the cocky strut his partner often adopted when annoyed - the gestures - the tilt of his head. The sarcasm that would be leeching off him in waves. That attitude both begged a fight but in the same breath was a challenge which most people wisely backed down from.

"... head injury ... time ... where's ... the doctor ...?" A pause. Another voice and then Danny speaking again. "Fine. I'll help ... wait ... together ..."

As Danny's voice came closer again. Much closer. Steve kept his eyes firmly shut. He swallowed hard, momentarily distracted by that rising feeling of nausea. He truly felt sick. Maybe he should feign brain damage for a little while longer to save himself the trouble of Danny's pending wrath?

Steve kept his eyes closed when he sensed their arrival. The nurse and his partner, side by side. While the nurse kept to his right, Steve sensed Danny doing two things. One, the rustle of a bag being dropped to a side chair and two, Danny rounding the foot of his bed to stand on his left.

"Steven J. McGarrett. Lieutenant-Commander," Steve mumbled blandly. Convincingly enough he supposed when he felt both people stop dead in their tracks. He tried to covertly squint his eyes open while also halting his recitation when he heard his partner curse.

" _Shit_. Damn it! Wait. I'll do it. Don't touch him!" Steve heard Danny say to the nurse before Danny addressed him directly, but what he did at the same time was baffling.

"Steve? Steve ... I need you to wake up for me." As he spoke, Danny rather firmly wrapped his hands around Steve's forearms, gently but effectively ready to pin both to the bed. Steve's eyes sprung open at that oddity, instantly finding his partner's face. He also forgot to continue the ruse.

"What the hell? Danny?" Steve asked, instantly tightening his muscles in defense, but wincing through the throbbing pain in his head at the same time. "Danny? What are you doing?" Squinting in pain, he looked from his partner to the nurse and then back again. The nurse was a few decent feet away from his bedside. Danny much closer even if his upper body might be slightly canted to the side, away from Steve and ... _why_?

Steve frowned because he knew what Danny's just out of reach positioning indicated. The colorful bruise on Danny's chin added further validation. Other than feeling inclined to repeat his name, rank and serial number, he'd evidently committed at least one other transgression. Potentially a serious one if the reddish swelling on the side of Danny's jaw line might be part of it and Steve knew, even as he was asking, that it was true.

"Danno? Did I hit you?" Steve relaxed under his partner's hands, knowing what he'd done. Somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten where he was and who he was with and his partner had taken the brunt of it. Right then, Danny was only trying to help the nurse avoid the same accidental lashing out that Steve must have reflexively done at one time or another.

"Danno. You're back this time ... for real? Danno," his partner repeated a couple of times, clearly relieved as he released the careful hold. Nonetheless, Danny stayed close though, still gauging Steve's mood.

 _Just in case._

"Sorry," Steve said to both people. "Danny? You all right?" He scrubbed shakily at his own face not remembering what he must have done. Yet the evidence on Danny's chin was certainly clue enough. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Completely mollified by Steve's full recognition and apology, Danny let out all the air he'd captured in his lungs in a loud whoosh. He smiled in relief, patting Steve's arm now and signaling the nurse forward.

"Me? I'm fine, big guy," Danny reassured him. "I'm not the guy who fell off a ladder and then saw fit to clock his partner a good one ... then saw fit to have a eight hour lapse in the here and now."

"Ladder?" Steve asked as the nurse stepped forward to check his eyes and his general well being. He was gaining his memory back now with lightning speed.

 _The restaurant. After hours renovations. The ceiling fan and fancy lighting ... Danny's insistence on waiting for an electrician._

"Oh. Yeah ... the lights."

"Yeah, the _lights_!" Danny agreed. "Why could you _not_ wait the five minutes it would have taken me to show up and to call that guy? We'd agreed to work on that together ... after calling the electrician in for consult! You nearly killed yourself ... not to mention ... you broke three of the lights when you fell!"

"I fell?" Steve asked, frowning in thought. "Wait ... eight _hours_?"

"Eight very long and very stressful hours," Danny said. "You could have killed yourself ... you are _not_ an electrician. The ladder ... geez, we had a plan! You should have waited Steve!"

He considered about what Danny said for a minute before coming up with a musty memory of their restaurant and the light fixtures he thought he'd try to install ... without help ... on a too tall ladder ... and not having enough hands ...

 _... the way one of the brushed metal surface of the lights had been too slick and had started to slip through his fingers. The metal had provided him with no traction and he'd grappled with the thing, nearly dropping it, but severely rattling the ladder. It had rocked on its legs and he'd lost his balance ..._

' _Yeah, he sure had fallen_ ', Steve thought to himself ruefully. He shifted in the bed and hissed through his teeth. Everything hurt. Danny was right; he should have waited.

"Whoa, wait. Hold up! Were you _kidding_ just now?" Danny suddenly asked, interrupting Steve's short reverie. His hand waved once through the air, over Steve's body, practically from head to toe. "You know ... that military name and rank bullshit ...Steve?"

"What?" Steve asked, confused by the change in direction.

"What, _what_? You were _kidding_ just now?" Danny narrowed his eyes suspiciously and then tapped near the bruise which had to be painfully sore. Not questioningly - accusingly - and Steve furrowed his brow.

"Steven? Yes?"

"Oh. Well, yeah ... but I just ... I didn't want to talk about it yet, Danno," Steve admitted very carefully. "And honestly, I didn't remember half of it until you explained it more."

He couldn't even shrug for the ache in his back and neck. His eyes were beginning to tear from the ache in his head. But the repentant look on his face, combined with what had to be very real lines of stress as his pain intensified, were all enough to preempt Danny's emotional outburst. Or, at least table it for another time as that severe look slowly became one of concern.

"Steve? What's up?" Danny asked, still suspicious, but perhaps not as annoyed and Steve blinked as a rather devious thought flittered enticingly through his head.

"Danno? Meds ... ?" Steve asked quietly, intentionally looking from the nurse to his partner. He waited a hairsbreadth as Danny rechanneled his outward show of worry from anger to _henning_ which manifested itself as an authoritative litany of demands for the poor nurse.

"Meds? Yeah, isn't it time for that now?" Danny asked the nurse. "He's in pain." He glanced down to Steve and for effect, Steve grimaced while rubbing his stomach through the blankets again. He blinked sadly before swallowing hard, adding another symptom to the mix.

"You're ... nauseous? Sick?" Danny asked him and Steve provided a tired thumbs up instead of even trying to nod. He squinted through his lashes, appealing his partner's patience and silently begging for help.

"I'll check, Detective. I believe he is due," the nurse said before asking Steve similar questions which Steve willingly provided weak, distracted replies.

 _Yes, his head hurt; though now, he knew the when, where of his predicament._

As for the _why_ of it, he glanced beseechingly towards Danny who's expression had completely changed now. Steve almost felt bad ... _almost_ ... but not quite. Besides, there was no harm in Steve manipulating his world just enough to stay head of his partner's quicker tongue. After, Steve would take that tongue-lashing in good humor and know he'd deserved it all along. A twisted leg, sprained back, whiplash and a concussion were all more than enough for Steve to have learned his lesson. Next time, he'd wait. Maybe even call that certified electrician as Danny had first wanted to do rather than Steve's abysmal attempt at saving a few bucks.

"Commander? Are you feeling nauseous?" The nurse was inquiring again and Steve managed to find his tongue to truthfully add in a few heartfelt apologies for being such a difficult patient. It was all true enough, too. The aches, the pains ... the nausea prompted by all of it.

"Steve?" Danny was asking now. Intervening and patting his arm, trying to get his attention. "The nurse'll call it all down to the pharmacy. Just rest up, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, Danno," Steve replied. "Thanks." He scowled though, annoyed with himself for the significant bruise blossoming along Danny's jawline. He'd screwed up in more ways than that one. He almost confessed his real need to divert their talk. But it didn't matter. Steve was sure that Danny was already reading through his semi-harmless little ploy again and that was proven when the nurse left the room to inquire about his meds with the doctor before contacting the hospital's pharmacy.

Danny still had his hand on Steve's arm, his grip firm but gentle. Steve squinted up into his partner's face.

"So?" Steve asked. He offered Danny a semi-sly grin rather than continuing and Danny chuffed a knowing sound in his throat.

"You, my friend, are _not_ getting out of it this easy," Danny snarked at him. "Me and you? When you're feeling better, we _will_ be talking about your hard-headed, obnoxious, over-the-top ..."

"Danny," Steve interrupted the quiet tirade and Danny stopped talking, his lips set in a firm line. "Please. Later?"

"Okay, okay," Danny said as he yielded ground. "Later ... just ... _rest_. When I found you there ... I thought you'd killed yourself for good this time."

Steve frowned when Danny swallowed and looked away, getting his emotions arrested once more. A moment later, Danny was smiling back down at him. His blue eyes were sparkling half in annoyance and half in amusement; an ability which only Danny seemed to possess and Steve reached up to pat the back of his hand in thanks. But Steve looked meaningfully at the bruise he'd put on his friend's chin and sighed loudly.

"About that? " Steve whispered as he began to close his eyes. "Sorry, Danno." He meant his apology for more than that bruise. But Steve knew Danny would easily figure that out as well.

"M'fine," Danny said softly. "I have just two words for you though ... think on them as you sleep ..."

"What's that?" Steve asked as he squinted one final time up into Danny's face, an eyebrow raised in askance when Danny began to grin.

"Certified. Electrician."

Trying not to laugh for fear of setting off his head more than it already was throbbing, Steve smiled as he closed his eyes.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	42. Chapter 42 - Penchant

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _Ill mother, sick elderly dog which has become VERY worrisome (enough for me to be working from home), stuck on a longer story and taking sanctuary in a word of the day. Bad bad muse ... not cooperating. :-( Pah! So here we are with a Word of the Day, short on plot and nothing but hurt/comfort/angst. Probably not medically correct at all ... nope ... grain of salt and all that ... just for amusement purposes and stress relief. Not entirely_ _completed, but nearly._

 ** _Good, old-fashioned whumpage, nary a plot in sight!_**

 _ **Word of the Day -**_ _ **Penchant**_ _: a strong or habitual liking for something or tendency to do something._

 _Or, in Danny's case: I will follow Steve no matter his penchant for getting (me) into trouble ..._

 **Chapter 1**

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"Steven, give me your hand!"

"I'm gonna pull you over if I do that!"

"No, you're not! So give me ... your damned hand!"

"Danny ..."

"Stop wasting... time! Just ... stop ... your _stupid..._ self-sacrificing... _insane_ penchants for being ... _heroic_! Now, give me your damned HAND!" Face red, sweat streaming into his eyes, Danny could scarcely breathe let alone talk and he was trying his darnedest to actually shout. With his diaphragm compressed by his tack vest and then against the wooden fence, each word came out as a pained, almost panicked whine.

"Both of you SHUT UP ...and do something!" Lou Grover all but barked at them, nearly deafening Danny's hearing in the process. At least the bigger man's demands got Steve moving though.

Danny finally felt the slap of Steve's free hand into his, but he went lower, fumbling for new purchase. Hyper-extending his upper body and losing any air he'd left in his lungs, Danny reached further yet. Grabbing palm to wrist, encouraging ... _forcing_ ... Steve to do the same, Danny closed his eyes in concentration. The fingers of his right hand closed like a vise around Steve's wrist. His left hand found purchase on that same wrist to take some strain off his right shoulder. He pulled back, his biceps bunching. Behind him, Lou had his belt and was using his much larger body as an actual anchor. But Danny felt the belt loosening. The small gold prong was coming loose from its small crab-like grip millimeter by millimeter. He felt it going and spread his own legs wide. But more horizontal than vertical, his toes were barely on the ground and - even with Grover holding some of his weight back - that subtle change in stance was all the old wooden fence needed to creak its final death knell.

"Williams ... _shit_ ," Lou cursed at the same time everything went to hell in a proverbial hand basket. "Hurry it up!"

The first crack was subtle as the pre-existing bend in the weather-worn wood began to give. Steve wasn't going to pull Danny over the rocky edge, it would be everything else which failed him. Life slowed down at the sound of a second, louder crackle. The old rail began to _v_ in the middle even more under Danny's weight when Lou stumbled forward. It wasn't even a half-step, but it was enough. Danny's eyes flew open, wide in stunned disbelief, meeting Steve's deeper azure ones which flashed angrily as if everything were Danny's fault even if it was Steve who'd once again dared to defy death.

Almost imperceptibly, Danny shook his head to negate Steve's demand: he would _not_ let go.

Their perp had grossly misjudged the leap off the high trail over the falls. He hadn't pushed off far enough to hit water and was now a tangled mess of broken limbs about five feet shy of the cascading falls. Steve had nearly followed suit. He'd tried to stop but had already leapt like a hurdling track star over the poor excuse of a fence. He'd stopped but the damp earth had given way and he'd slid just over the lip of the high shelf. And, if they didn't get him up in time… he was going to meet the same fate as their deceased thief, likely taking Danny with him because Danny absolutely refused to let go.

"Danny ... l'eggo," Steve breathed out. His left hand scrabbled against the rock wall while his legs pistoned wildly, the toes of his boots sending tufts of dirt and larger rocky debris thirty feet down below. He grunted in pain as Danny's fingernails dug into the skin of his bare arm and his shoulder was almost pulled out of its socket.

"C-climb," Danny gasped stubbornly. His breath nearly gone as he dug in harder. "Hurry!"

" _D'nno_ ," Steve said, the tone more of a plea as the two clung to each other, each struggling to not let go of the other even if Steve _thought_ he wanted to fall. Of course he _didn't_ and Danny gave that sketchy nod of refusal again, biting his bottom lip in determination. No matter what, he wasn't going to let go. Something was about to give though and while Steve no doubt could hear it, Danny could literally feel it.

That final crack was sudden, visceral, and deafening in his ears. Louder than Grover's voice had been.

Danny didn't go over the edge though. Nevertheless, it was close enough as he skidded a few inches forward until Lou Grover blanketed Danny's lower body with his ample size. Instead, Danny crashed chest first through the fence to the rock-hard ground. The force ricocheted his chin off the ground with stunning force. It jarred his brain and Danny bit his tongue.

It took all Danny's remaining willpower to not allow his hands to spasm as a spike of unexpected agony rippled through the fleshy, underside portion of his right tricep. He didn't even have the breath left to whimper as that hot slice of pain traveled in two directions. Down to his elbow and then upwards, towards his shoulder, Danny felt as if he'd been stabbed with a hot poker. Strength nearly gone and combatting this new hurt, Danny's head sagged down, his forehead just propped against his straining arms. Sweat rolled down his face and he struggled to breathe as his own breath came back at him off the hard-packed dirt.

 _Damn fool._ Danny was going to kill his partner if - no _once_ \- _once_ they got out of this.

"Climb!" Danny heard Grover yell in his ear. "Steve ... _climb_! Junior, here ... get over here!"

Danny groaned as Steve literally used his body to begin that climb. Refusing to release the hold he had on Steve's one wrist, Danny felt Steve grab his shirt first and then the thickest part of his tack vest to heave himself up a few inches. Sandwiched under Grover, Danny felt the older man shifting himself to grab for Steve in kind.

There'd be bruises for sure tomorrow if they made it though the next few minutes. _If_. Steve's foot slipped again and a severe jolt went through Danny's upper arm significant enough to tunnel his hearing into a vacuum of white noise. When his hearing returned to normal, Lou was cursing again and shouting for help. Danny at least registered that Steve was breathing hard and his muscles were quivering as badly as Danny's. But Danny couldn't do a damned thing more. Unable to move by that point, Danny sensed another person arrive a split second later. In relief, he sensed Junior fling himself to the ground next to him to grapple for Steve's hands, arms and upper body.

"Grab him," Lou grunted needlessly. "Come on Junior… Grab'em ... hurry it up." With his face practically buried in the dirt, Grover on top of him and Junior now flanking his right side, Danny's ability to breathe didn't have a chance to recover and unnerved by the newest pain in his upper arm, he was sinking fast and he desperately needed the two others to get his partner to safety.

"I got him! Hang on sirs!" Junior shouted and Danny suddenly wanted to laugh. _Sirs_.

Just how long was this kid going to keep going on with _that_? Especially at a time like this? Danny opened his mouth and made his lungs work just enough to wheeze in a tiny breath. It wasn't enough and his head swam.

 _Sirs_. Danny tasted blood on his tongue. He felt dizzy. Based upon their current straits, Steve didn't deserve the courtesy anyway. He wheezed in some more air; forcing it in. Grover's weight was counter-productive, plus with that pained inhale came bits of dirt for this troubles and Danny gurgled a harsh cough. He dug into his flagging reserves when some of the strain eased off his arms and then suddenly disappeared entirely. He took one breath and then another, his eyes tearing in abject relief even if each inhale sounded hoarse and strangled. Danny opened his mouth gasping like a fish, wanting to say something until Lou's weight left him and he was abruptly dragged backwards by his ankles away from the drop.

A new flux of dizziness sent his senses reeling. There was a hard tug on his arm, too, worsening that hot slice of pain through his shoulder. Evidently Steve was coming along with him due to the hold Danny still had on the man's hand. Either that, or the team was simply moving as one combined unit, all of their safety of paramount consideration. No matter how, or why, Junior's reprimand to be voiced by Danny would have to wait longer. Head bowed, eyes tightly closed, all that Danny could manage were a spate of reactive tears which sparkled along with the disconcerting field of stars behind his closed lids. He was still connected to Steve by his right hand and probably would stay that way a bit longer.

Palm to wrist and tighter than ever. His muscles were stuck in a vise which refused to open. Danny couldn't let go.

"Sir?" Danny heard Junior asking Steve over his head. There it was _again_ and Danny virtually guffawed inside his aching head. That boy needed a smack ... a good one. A moment later, Danny did garble a short manic chuckle at the very much typical reply. He was going to smack each upside the head but... later.

"O-okay," Steve panted.

 _Damn fool._

"Fine. I'm good," Steve said a little stronger. _Of course he was good,_ Danny thought to himself. He squeaked an inelegant half laugh, half pained moan into the ground and then coughed. At least Steve was still breathing hard. _At least t_ here was _that_ while Danny lay limply on the ground in a world of hurt.

"You two done holdin' hands then?" Grover had the gall to chuckle. "Tani's down below ... our guy ... well, you probably already know ..."

"Yeah," Steve said. "Danny, let me help you up ... come on, buddy, let's go. You can yell at me later."

Danny could feel him getting to his feet, pulling up on Danny's injured arm, balancing probably on his toes ... absolutely baffled when Danny audibly gagged and tried to weakly pull him back down. The pain which exploded through his arm was excruciating.

"Hey? Hey, Danny ... you okay?" Steve asked. The worry and surprise were immediate and Steve shifted again. Suddenly he was on his knees, his tone worried and cautious. " _Danny_? Talk to me ... are you all right?"

 _Damn fool._

Forehead bowed, Danny slowly rocked his head from side to side. He grimaced at the ache in his head, which suddenly leeched into his neck. His right arm was on fire. He lacked the ability to voice the obvious as he sank belly-deep into the ground. Eyes resolutely closed, his fingers maintained their crushing hold on Steve's hand.

 **~ to be continued ~**


	43. Chapter 43 - Penchant Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _it makes me happy in an otherwise lousy week at home ("Crap-tastic" - I think I am officially in love with this word!) that everyone is enjoying this whump-fest! Thank you for all the well wishes and happy comments. Each is greatly appreciated!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

The bubble of concern amongst his team moved from Steve and to Danny's well-being within less than a heartbeat. It was so fast, that Danny almost felt bad for being the focus of attention. No matter that it wasn't his fault at all. He sensed Junior hovering near Lou, the bigger man already cursing softly under his breath without really even knowing the reason why. But it was Steve who was suddenly down on his knees all over again, his face inches from Danny's while his free hand carefully slid along the length of Danny's right forearm.

"What is it?" Steve asked. "Shoulder?"

" _N-nuh_ ...," Danny stammered the sound out through gritted teeth. He took a raspy, broken inhale vainly trying to calm himself. The earthy smell of damp soil mixing with the tannic taste of blood in his mouth made him give out with a shallow cough when it caught in the back of his throat. He was lying on top of a piece of the broken fence rail and part of that was digging into his hip. His shoulder did hurt, as did practically every single part of his body. But there was something more ... something else which was making him feel not only sick to his stomach, but woozy from pain.

"Come on, buddy, talk to me," Steve encouraged him so softly that Danny wasn't sure anyone else could even hear the question. "Tell me what's wrong. If it's not your shoulder, what is it?"

 _Damn fool._ The mental complaint didn't go too far now though. It weakened and died in his head as Steve's honest concern for him ramped up. Danny winced at the ache in his neck, but that was still the least of his problems. When Steve tried to disengage their hands to double his efforts to do some basic triage, Danny's fingers slipped off Steve's wrist, sending that white-hot slice of agony through his arm. He recovered Steve's fingers, gripping them in a vise and only then did Danny force a few words out.

"S-stop. Something ...my _arm_ ...under m-my arm." Danny cringed when Steve's free hand moved above his elbow, his breathing once more stuttering in his lungs. He just knew the lightest of touches was going to be sheer agony. In desperation, he bore down on Steve's fingers, his reaction even hurting himself this time.

"Okay, okay," Steve quickly soothed, stopping his attempts entirely when he felt Danny's mounting stress. He rubbed at Danny's knuckles, trying to ease the stranglehold on his hand which Danny just couldn't seem to do. "But I've got to look, buddy. Let me check it out ...hold on. I'll go slow. Danny? Come on ... okay?"

Steve waited and Danny finally rocked his head on his forearm, half in understanding. He squeezed Steve's hand, but couldn't bring himself to let go. He needed the anchor in a desperate sort of way. The throbbing had intensified and he was just thankful that Steve wasn't trying to change his grip again. In fact, Steve was doing a dutiful job of keeping Danny's right arm perfectly immobile as he rocked back on his heels. Though it was awkward, Steve used his free hand to gently prod above Danny's elbow. Within seconds though, he was pausing and that lack of movement was telling. The softest of worried hisses escaped from his mouth and then Steve was all business.

"Okay, just ... we're not going to move him," Steve announced suddenly as he placed his free hand on the back of Danny's neck.

"Sir?" Junior questioned from somewhere overhead. "What is it? He's bleeding? What do we need?"

"We need to stabilize his arm. But I think ... an air-lift," Steve muttered under his breath before repeating himself more loudly. "Yeah, Junior help me out of this shirt and then find me a thick, sturdy stick about a foot long. And, I want him out of here ... Lou, call it in. Now. Right now."

"Air lift?" Danny objected weakly. He shook his head, eyes closed, feeling ever more cold and pathetically tired with every passing minute. "A stick? An air-lift and ... a _stick_? A-are you out of y-your mind?"

"Yeah - and no, in that order," Steve stated bluntly. Velcro ripped and there was a faint rustling sound. Steve's voice was briefly muffled. "You're bleeding, Danny and you need to do me a favor right now: do _not_ move." His hand pressed down harder on Danny's back when Danny's legs twitched; Danny certainly couldn't stay on his stomach the entire time. Being told he couldn't move only made him _want_ to move more. But Steve was insistent as he remained poised over Danny's prone body, his hand a heavy weight on Danny's back.

"Holy ... _shit,"_ Lou said. The was no small modicum of shock in the deep bass voice which suddenly boomed over his head and Danny felt a spike of alarm ripple through his chest. Apparently just as worried, the man was in complete agreement with his partner. "Yeah, I'll call it in ... keep him down ... Danny, don't you move ...we've got this." The man's bigger than life shadow was gone quicker than Danny could have imagined but two others remained close: Steve and Junior.

"Steve?" Danny asked, perturbed when he got no reply while Steve balanced there, evaluating him ... _worried about him_. Eyes closed, head buried in his arm, Danny scowled into the ground, utterly confused by the demands being made. Steve sounded distracted and that never boded well because it meant he was coming up with some ridiculous, off the charts, lame-brained idea. Or maybe he already had if he thought Danny needed a helo air-lift - a life flight - to a trauma center. But no, there was more as Danny heard the sound of material being ripped into pieces.

"Here, sir," Junior said and Danny's private scowl deepened, and this time not because of Junior's annoying habit.

"D'did you just take y-your shirt off?" Danny stammered without bothering to look.

"Shut up Danno," Steve muttered under his breath. "You're bleeding pretty badly and I need to do something about it."

Danny moaned in his throat. That was why Steve needed the stick ... the material ... he was bleeding and Steve had it in his head to make a tourniquet. He didn't need to stay flat out for that. He could at least get more comfortable, couldn't he?

"St-eve. Get me up," Danny started to say until Lou Grover interrupted his weaker voice.

"They'll be here in less than ten minutes," Lou announced. His words were rushed now, his voice sounding strained. "How's he doing?"

" _He's_ fine. What's goin' on?" Danny panted through the hot ache as he tried to raise his head. He needed to know what was going on and certainly couldn't stay stranded on his stomach. "Steve?"

"Danny, I'm serious. Don't move! We've got a bit of a problem," Steve informed him. "Junior? Did you get that stick?" He was curt but not unkind, and Danny chewed at his already blood-stained lip at the anxiety he heard in the tone. He ground his forehead back on his arm feeling useless and helpless. He'd hoped it didn't look as bad as it felt. Evidently... no luck there. If anything, the injury was worse than his brain could even imagine if Steve planned to use a tourniquet.

"Tell me. It ... _hurts_ ," Danny wheezed after a moment figuring he'd waited long enough for Steve to offer him an explanation. He turned his head, his cheek on his left forearm, his eyesight blurry from the awkward position. "S-Steve?"

There was another worried sigh and their eyes met. There was a desperate - almost devastated - quality to Steve's expression. Danny let his head fall back, his vision graying around the edges. He felt uncomfortably hot and cool at the same time when a light breeze buffeted the leaves and fronds of the foliage he lay under. He felt Junior nearby, even closer than before and then there was a careful, gentle pressure near the juncture of his elbow.

"Yeah. There," Steve murmured apparently to Junior before addressing Danny directly. "We need to wrap a piece of my shirt around your arm and then loop it over into a knot. The stick that Junior got will go through that loop like a handle ... and Danny, ... Junior's going to have to use that stick to turn the loop ...to tighten it. Boy Scout stuff, Danno ... I'm sure you know what I'm getting at."

He did and Danny swallowed hard, as he felt the pressure increasing just above his elbow, closer to the upper portion of his bicep. If he thought he hurt before, there'd be no comparison to what was coming.

"We'll go slow, buddy," Steve gently warned him. "Just breathe through it."

He still wasn't sure what exactly had happened but more telling, Steve had that tone of his which could calm the most skittish of animals and Danny briefly wondered where he'd learned it. From his father? The Navy? Maneuvers? Some bad experience he'd schooled himself to compartmentalize and manage dire situations with over time? Or, maybe Steve had just been born with this particular skill of being able to deliver the most terrifying of information in the calmest of ways.

"M'bleeding out?" Danny asked hoarsely as Steve softly directed Junior to tighten the loop of material. He grimaced as the pressure increased to a nearly unbearable point, unable to stop his fingers from spasming and just about crushing Steve's with every one of Junior's careful turns. He gagged and felt faint, his heartbeat thudding virtually in his ears.

"Easy. Not bleeding out. Just a precaution," Steve replied soothingly. Calmly in fact as he accepted the bone-breaking vise on his hand without complaint. In that same even intonation, he offered a simple explanation.

"It's ... close to an artery and ... and I just don't know how the hell this happened ..."

Danny snorted unexpectedly through his nose. An incredulous sound. He kept his eyes closed as an odd bubble of amusement made him smirk into his arm. As questions went, that one was darn stupid coming from his partner.

"Easy," Steve whispered gently and Danny could just imagine his fearful expression as a shudder ran through Danny's body. "Cold ... what's going on?" Steve asked next, compounding Danny's suspicions by sounding so damnably worried for him.

"Wh- _what_ do you mean _how,_ " Danny stammered. "H-how ..." He giggled softly, snorting again; giddy with pain and shock when he felt a foreign thing move under his skin near but higher up where Junior was now securing the too-tight tourniquet. The pain ratcheted up and Danny retched when he thought that he could feel some odd pulse point down his forearm. His fingers were slick from sweat and beginning to feel like ice and yet, he still maintained the grip he had on Steve's hand. It _hurt_ \- and blindingly so. Danny made an almost sickly noise as a spike of pain lanced towards his shoulder. He rubbed his forehead on his arm and thought about just breathing instead of the nausea which was on the rise. Having his eyes closed was evidently a good idea.

"Stupid ... dumb ass question," he rasped at the same time his body was rocked by a severe tremble.

"Danny, calm down for me," Steve whispered. "I'm sorry okay? Just please ... take it easy." His free hand brushed the few strands of hair from Danny's cheek which was dampened from sweat. He used that as another excuse for his fingers to linger next against Danny's neck, checking his pulse and looking for more signs of trouble.

"You're a bit shocky ... take it slow."

"Slow," Danny snorted the word into the dirt. What did Steve know about taking anything slow? "Maybe ... do you think ... it hap-pened ... because Steven, you never look before you leap and this time, I just happened to get too ... too _close_ to your penchant for insanity?" He was starting to ramble and some part of his brain knew he was going into shock despite the pain - or maybe even because of the pain. He couldn't quite remember which it was supposed to be; and really, did it matter? He shivered, feeling cold in the filtered sunlight of the day. His right hand felt like a brick of ice and Danny grimaced when he dimly realized that too, was shaking.

Shock. Trauma. This wasn't good at all. With a herculean effort, Danny focused on Steve's voice which was now waxing and waning in his ear.

"Oh okay, so of course this is _my_ fault," Steve said. His fingers brushed over Danny's cheek and neck again.

"Could be. Yes," Danny hissed through clenched teeth as he fought a sudden need to sleep. "And ... _geez_ ," he moaned as the pain reverberated through his bicep and into the base of his neck again. He nearly throttled Steve's fingers in half the pain was so bad, this time eliciting a similar sympathetic hiss of sound from Steve's lips and apology from Junior of all people.

"Seriously, take it easy," Steve whispered. "Let me just ... _think_."

"I'm sorry, sir," Junior added for Danny's benefit. But then he was speaking to Steve and over-using that damned title which Danny desperately focused on. "Helo is probably just a few minutes out; should we stabilize his arm, sir?"

"Would-ja please ... _please_ ...knock that off? Junior? _Please_?" Danny wheezed interrupting the younger man, fighting his body's desire to sleep. His eyelashes fluttered when he tried to look up despite the awkward position he was in.

"Sir?" Junior asked in bewilderment. The younger man was completely confused. With his eyes closed, Danny could only imagine the look on his face or that he might be staring blankly at Steve. Lacking energy after his short outburst, Danny's lips twitched into a smirk, hidden by his arm, when Steve smoothly provided the answer.

"That ...," Steve noted while he gave their joined a hands a gentle reassuring squeeze; one that also pleaded quietly with Danny to please, _please_ stop talking when Danny murmured a soft sound of thanks for being his voice. "The _sir crap_ ... not necessary, Junior."

"Yes, sir ... I mean no ... _ah_ ," Junior's voice petered out and Danny would have grinned if he could have. "Sorry."

"So ...so Danny," Steve began to say. "To answer your first question ... about what happened." Again, his voice was too calm and this time it was enough for Danny to win the struggle. He squinted his eyes open and sought out Steve's face. His vision was blurry and yet he could see enough. Looking into Steve's eyes wasn't any more reassuring.

"It looks like a few splinters of wood went into your arm and you're bleeding pretty bad. I think it missed the artery, but better safe than sorry ..."

"Zat 'all? Whaddaya need to think about then?" Danny interrupted almost petulantly. "J us' a splinter or two? Find a pair of tweezers. Pull'em out." He tried to smile but his lips felt like rubber; they weren't working and he was beginning to slur the words which he had inside his head. Suddenly, nothing wanted to come out of his mouth the right way.

"No can do," Steve said. "It's bleeding ... and I can't tell how ...where ... it is. The tourniquet is the best we can do ... that and keeping you and your arm stabilized until we have more hands on deck."

"Uh huh," Danny murmured. _Hands_ sounded good and he argued his fingers to feel Steve's hand. His arm and fingers were starting to feel cold. Tingly. Sometimes numb. His fingers twitched and squeezed around Steve's hand. He needed that anchor as he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut. He was tired and feeling sickly. His one last attempt at speaking was a slurry of words that he wasn't sure made sense at all.

"Duly ... noted ... Steve McGarrett doesn't stock tweezers." He giggled, more loudly and then choked back a laugh which tried to bubble up painfully out of his chest.

"It's not funny, Danny," Steve whispered, his worried voice now waxing and waning overhead. "Just ... focus on breathing .. enough talking." Nearly a million miles away.

"No," Danny muttered indistinctly. Then wondered why he'd said the word. He felt Steve practically bending himself in half to hear him speak. Had Danny's voice really become that weak?

"Stop trying to _talk_ ," Steve said. "Save your strength buddy." He was close to Danny's ear and his adopted sense of calm seemed to be leaving him. His tone had changed again and he was fidgety; Danny could sense the tension despite his diminishing level of awareness.

"You still can't f-fly and I still c-can't stop you f-from try'n," Danny insisted on pushing each word out of his mouth. It was mortifyingly hard to speak and the effort left him breathless. It sent his head reeling. The downwards spiral into darkness was teasing him in earnest now. No, not teasing him: it was right there in front of his closed lids as a frigid sense of cold settled into the lower half of his arm. The pain began to recede and Danny faintly realized that he could scarcely feel his fingertips.

"Steve?" He slurred lazily as his fingers began to go lax one by one. He tried to hang on but everything had gone numb. Danny knew he should be worried - should complain even - but the thought was as transient as the sound of Steve's voice or Junior's murmured concerns.

"Hey no. Stay with us," Steve demanded. "Danny ... stay awake; stay with me." But his voice was indistinct too. Farther away than before and fading into a flux of white-noise. Sound without words. A buzz in his ear.

As a wave of dizziness rippled through his body, Danny groaned, the sound more of a wheezed exhale - a tired bland note much like that of the air being let out of a balloon. The hard earth no longer felt so hard. And much of his pain had become muted. In the distance, a steady _whump-whump-whump_ reverberated through the white-noise before joining the static inside his head. It was gone before Danny could bother to decipher what it all had meant.

He lost consciousness then, falling into a bleakness which simultaneously broke the tie he had to Steve. Danny never felt his fingers fall completely lax in his partner's hand. He never heard Steve calling out his name.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	44. Chapter 44 - Penchant Part 3

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _I went back and forth on posting this as a standalone chapter just w Steve's POV. Obviously I decided to post it alone rather than including what (should be) the final bit with Danny. So, tell me if it's a mistake after the last chapter goes up - would this all have been better together as one long chapter, or was having divided it a good thing? Same ol'caveats apply: mistakes are my own ... not a doctor ... etc. It's fiction folks!_

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

He'd done this far too many times. Sitting by himself in a cold, plastic molded chair just waiting to hear something about one of his team ... one of his men ... a friend.

 _Danny_.

Steve scrubbed hard at his face before leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. He was exhausted. He fought looking at the things which were lying sealed in a clear, medical waste bag on the white linoleum between his feet for the umpteenth time. Three sharp, partly decayed, darkly bloodstained splinters of wood which the doctors had removed from Danny's tricep. Mementos from the surgeon who'd never seen anything of their ilk. For some reason, the man had assumed Steve would want to see them too. Maybe even show them to Danny like some macabre set of trophies.

Steve wasn't as impressed as the surgeon might have assumed.

Not one could be simply called a splinter. Each had needed to be surgically removed. But one old piece of wood in particular didn't deserve that benign name at all. More of a long, knife-like shard with a rusted piece of metal at its thicker end, there was no way it could be compared to a mere thin splinter of wood. Nearly eight-inches long and with a jagged thickness of almost three-inches, this _spike_ had done the most damage in what the doctors termed a freak accident. In Steve's mind though, calling what had happened a freak accident was the easy way out. There was a clear explanation - a root cause. What happened to his partner could have been avoided. So did that still make it an accident?

He scrubbed harder at his face trying to un-see how the bloody spike had pierced Danny's arm on a frightening angle, leaving only its ugly metal flange visible. Faux sparkles of light flashed behind his closed eyelids but he could only see the gore. Steve groaned softly under his breath. His attempts at banishing the image were futile and he let his head sag lower towards the floor. He should have gone home to rest like he'd been told to do hours before. But he couldn't bring himself to leave the hospital and it was too late now to take a chance. He wouldn't be going anywhere until he saw Danny for himself.

He squinted his eyes open, his line of sight was directly over the medical waste bag. The baggie's contents were putting a constant pall over what he'd been told and he glanced at his watch, mentally tallying up the five and a half plus whatever hours he'd been waiting. Steve had been complimented by the doctors for doing all the right things. The simple tourniquet to keep blood loss to a minimum, moving his partner as little as possible and stabilizing Danny's arm. All the right things had kept this longest piece of wood from further compromising the brachial artery.

On one level Steve was enormously relieved by the good news, but he felt far from _proud_ and the compliments fell flat. They only mattered to him because Danny was gong to be fine.

He'd made a mistake. Charging ahead like a bull in a china shop, he'd made an extreme error in judgement and he'd unnecessarily jeopardized, not only his, but his partner's well-being. Really, his entire team's.

Steve's fingers twitched feeling empty. _Lost_. When Danny had lost his grip on consciousness, he'd lost the bone-cracking hold he'd maintained on Steve's hand. Still even now, it didn't take much for Steve to keep feeling that ghost-image of Danny's fingers. That was in great part to Steve not letting go even when Danny had lost his battle. Another raw compliment from the doctors given to Steve since he'd been relentless in keeping Danny's arm straight and essentially immobilized until help had arrived. Another good move. The medi-vac - the medical airlift. One more wise decision.

Steve snorted under his breath in self-derision. This never should have happened. He hadn't meant to follow their perp that closely and he'd lost track of the trail. He hadn't realized the trail was so near the falls or that the old fence was an ancient, crumbling barricade to keep people from a weakening earthy edge of ground. He'd slipped up. Steve couldn't get near to reconciling those truths yet though. He'd made a mistake and only _Danny's_ quick thinking had saved ... _him._

Danny probably would never believe him and Steve might not expect him to; maybe he didn't deserve that courtesy either. Danny should have _let go._ Then again, Steve had no right to think he ever would have done such a thing; no matter what or where, Danny always had his back.

Reluctantly, Steve looked down at the clear bag. Its contents stared back at him with the dangerous spike taking center stage. Its jagged end still looked damp and its ruddy color seemed to hold a subtle moist shine. He still couldn't believe how long the damned thing was or how very lucky they'd been that it hadn't sliced through the brachial artery in Danny's arm. Danny had lost plenty of blood as it was. He'd gone into shock and ... he'd barely escaped major nerve damage.

"Commander?"

Steve's head snapped up and he was on his feet, fighting off his morose thoughts. Medical bag automatically in hand, he was instantly face-to-face with his partner's primary physician. "Yes? How is he?" Steve asked. If there was an anxious tone to his voice, he couldn't help it.

"Resting comfortably," the physician shared with a soothing smile. "He may wake but it's far more likely that he'll sleep for a while yet; but you can visit with him if you'd like."

Steve's fingers twitched and for one miserable second he felt like running away. But he nodded, on automatic pilot, baggie in hand, he followed the doctor with at least one half of his brain paying avid attention to what he was being told about his partner's complete condition. Another much smaller portion of his brain also heard the doctor's admonition that he shouldn't stay long - needn't need to stay long - and perhaps, he might go home at some point to get some rest himself. Steve barely heard that recommendation which was no matter because he discounted what he did hear at the same time. He was also far too tired to be annoyed; it was easier to let that advice just go to the wayside. Instead, Steve nodded politely and thanked the man, hearing what he wanted, ignoring what was left until he found himself in Danny's room.

He heard everything the doctor had said about Danny's injuries and timeline for release and recovery, however Steve would be hard-pressed right then to repeat it verbatim. Standing at the foot of Danny's hospital bed, Steve never noticed the doctor leave. He heaved in a lungful of air, hoping to ease his body's tension. It did little good, though. As the doctor had initially said, Danny was sleeping but it only took Steve a few quiet seconds to take note of the damage done to his partner. The raw scrape on Danny's chin from where he'd hit the ground when the fence had first failed. The subtle blackish-blue blush of a bruise blossoming upwards towards a slightly swollen lip.

Steve shook his head at the few leads and monitors; the intravenous lines supplying antibiotics or pain medications or plain fluids. He saw just how Danny's right arm had been elevated, propped up to take the pressure off the major wounds on the back of his tricep. No doubt that support was just as helpful to the badly wrenched shoulder and neck muscles. Steve hadn't meant to lose track of the trail or be so close to the edge of the trail. He'd made a mistake ... but this was the real end result and this is what mattered now because ... Danny never should have gotten hurt.

Knowing he'd be staying for quite a while longer, Steve crept quietly to the corner of the room to take sentry in the available chair. Meant for patients, the chair was more of a large leatherette recliner. Its location was perfect though for Steve to have a birds-eye view of the hospital bed and Danny's face. There was no comparison to the hard plastic chair he'd just vacated in the waiting room. But sitting there in the half-light of the hospital room and listening to the predictable sounds of the various machines, Steve would know the instant his partner would wake.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	45. Chapter 45 - Penchant Part 4

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _well wow ... this is NOT the draft which was first written by said, cooperative muse at the start of this romp. This is entirely different after the evil, breakfast bunny broke loose over night. And Miss Phoebe ... who fed the breakfast bunny extra special carrots ... an extra chapter ..._

 **Word of the Day - Penchant** _a strong or habitual liking for something or tendency to do something._

 _Or, in Danny's case: I will follow Steve no matter his penchant for getting (me) into trouble ..._

 **Chapter 4**

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _The faces in front of him swam in and out of view. A mockery of images. First their perp, then Steve and then himself. Back again. An odd out of sequence blur ... the perp running ... Steve's back ... a broken fence ... Steve's stunned shouts ... a cry for help ... letgoletgoletgo ... A body broken at the bottom of a cliff. An endless macabre loop of three faces inches from Danny's nose as he lay prone at the bottom of the falls. He wanted to look away but Danny couldn't stop seeing them._

 _Lying prone, arms splayed wide, he watched the sickly rotation quicken. An out-of-focus, black and white snapshot._

 _Danno ... Danno ..._ _letgoletgoletgo ... Dannoooo ..._

He opened his eyes in the middle of Steve mouthing his name over blood-stained lips, a second before the haze of dark hair was overcome by his own lighter dirty-blond. The loop was starting again. Air stuck in his throat, heart thudding inside his chest, he - _opened his eyes_ \- expecting to see the worst. But fingers buried in the linens of a hospital bed, Danny didn't see any of that. Instead the too-bland of the room replaced water, dirt and jungle. The sickening splintered kaleidoscope of bloody faces dissolved away. Other than his own discordant, raspy panting, the sounds of the vital signs monitor and distant ambient noise of voices proved the normalcy of real life outside the deafness of his nightmare.

View limited, Danny stayed wide-eyed as he glanced rapidly around the room. The working part of his brain told him he was fine, that he'd merely survived a dream, while the heavily medicated portion insisted parts of that nightmare had to have been true. On the verge of panic, his eyes settled on the dark shape in the corner of the room. In the shadows, and for another terrible instant, that evil part of Danny's brain played one last trick on him.

It wasn't Steve slumbering in the corner, legs every which way. One arm flung over the side of the heavy chair, fingertips just scraping the floor. It was the lanky frame of their perp. Cocky and grinning gleefully, he was watching Danny as closely as he was being watched, minus the fear which was beginning to leak off Danny in waves. The perp's hand moved off the linoleum, jerking upward brokenly. A marionette on its last legs. The dim silhouette of the gun was obvious even as it lurched awkwardly through the air. Danny whined in his chest. He couldn't breathe as the perp's hand stilled in an almost dramatic way. Unwavering now, Danny stared at the skeletal hand which was now eye-level. A hand ruined by years of hard living and worser deeds. The hand was attached to a skinny wrist which was broken and yet, that gun now didn't move and in ever-rising fear, Danny watched as the man's thumb stroked the hammer before slowly pulling it back ...

... _click by click ..._

The whine in Danny's throat became a louder shrill sound of horror and two things broke through his terrifying almost hypnotic daze. An alarm blaring loudly over his head as his heart rate skyrocketed and Steve's immediate reaction which dissolved the image in a faux sparkle of light.

" _Whoa_! Help in here!" Steve shouted as Danny tore upright in the bed, gasping and then gurgling a sound much like a wounded animal. He grasped at his injured arm and fell sideways into the bedrail as pain ricocheted up and down the entire length of his appendage. More pain, thick and hot, flared across his neck and both shoulders, leaving him panting and twisting in agony.

"Danny! What the hell happened ... what's wrong?" Steve asked him desperately as he vainly tried to help, then called out again. "Come on! I need someone. _Now_!" Mindful of the injured arm and leads, Steve was opting to hold Danny down as gently as he could as others entered the room on a run.

"Commander?"

"Detective Williams? Can you tell me what's wrong ... _Detective_?"

The voices were almost white noise, the words practically indecipherable over the scream of the heart monitor. After the machine was silenced, Danny didn't recognize any of them except for Steve's more strident voice and frankly, didn't care to. He heard Steve's worried replies that he wasn't sure what had just happened to his partner. Anger warred with concern that, no matter what, this was unacceptable on all levels. Danny almost smirked to himself at that. Steve - _angry_ \- was a force to be reckoned with.

"What. Happened." Steve's clipped words to the medical staff were demand, not question. Danny clearly heard them and his normal sarcastic comment of _'if you only knew'_ flashed across his wounded mind. Unable to speak coherently though, Danny let it all go, sensing that he'd earned himself more pain meds and likely even a sedative. He needed the pain meds. No lie there, but didn't wholly desire the sedative despite the the way his heart refused to behave itself.

"Danno? Try to relax, buddy," Steve was saying, close to his ear now. "Doctor's here ... you'll feel better in a minute. Just breathe."

Again Steve's words broke through and Danny clung to the sound of his voice. He finally was coherent enough to realize Steve still maintained a rather firm hold of his shoulders just shy of where he hurt the most. Under Steve's hands, Danny focused on breathing and trying to relax. He was finally able to see Steve's face and he stared upwards, cataloguing the fact that Steve ... was _Steve_. Alive and whole. Not _dead_ ... not _broken_ into a million pieces at the foot of some lone, Hawaiian waterfall. Their eyes held and Steve tried to offer him a soothing smile, but Danny had done a grand job of equally scaring his friend half to death.

And that thought was almost funny. Dead ... not dead ... but scared that far back ... to _death_? It wasn't fair and Danny knew he wasn't making sense inside his rattled brain. Another unfair and not so funny joke dared flash across his mind and Danny made a sound then. He couldn't hold it back. One that Steve at least recognized as a parody of a giggle despite its shrillness and oddly hoarse-sounding falter at its end.

"Alright, alright. Take it easy," Steve said as he sat on the edge of the bed, shaken and worried. Around him, the chaos seemed to continue as the medical staff hovered closely. Forced to move just a bit, Steve chose to at least keep one hand on Danny's left shoulder. Likely a precautionary move in case he might try to move again, but Danny was much too rattled now - too much in pain - as reality returned.

"What was that, _huh_?"

Danny shook his head feeling lost, _traumatized_ as the pain slowly came down but he still couldn't manage it. Breathing hard, he couldn't answer the simplest of questions and Steve noticed. The gentle squeeze to his shoulder had his friend making demands again and Danny let him. Eyes closed, a few more minutes passed by and a nasal cannula was placed under his nose. A brief delay later, and Danny felt an obvious warmth spread through his body; sedative indeed.

"Take it easy, buddy," Steve said as the pace remained attentive around his bed. "Easy ... let the meds do their job. You're in good hands. Breathe, buddy. Just focus on breathing. Doc needs to check your arm out ... "

Though he appreciated the warning, Danny groaned as his arm was lifted and repositioned. He vaguely heard the doctor order pain medication and demand other things which he didn't quite catch. The deep ache reached into his neck and upper back and he was panting, stuck waiting for both the sedative and pain medication to really take affect. He lay there limply, soaked in sweat, as the sheets were briefly removed and his body re-arranged on his behalf. His legs, his injured arm ... once more elevated on a pillow and its dressing rechecked. His upper body was gently shifted to a more comfortable position with Steve's help, the head of the bed now slightly raised to ease his breathing. Danny tiredly squinted his eyes back open when the sheets were replaced.

Steve was right there. Resolute and determined; his expression hadn't changed all that much from when Danny had first woken. But now with the blanket tucked back around his chest, his vitals resuming a more normal level, the activity in the room was falling back to a calm. And Steve should have also been calmer; he was not. At a loss of what to do next, he unexpectedly got to his feet only to bring Danny a small cup of water.

"Here ... drink," Steve said as he held the straw steady so that Danny wouldn't have to fumble with his left hand. "Geez, Danny ...," he murmured shakily as Danny coped with taking a few sips. "What the hell just happened?"

"Detective?" It was the doctor who was trying again, seconding Steve's question, and Danny managed a nod of acknowledgement. His gaze flickered to the man and he saw him as if for the first time, and maybe it was. Danny couldn't really remember if they'd officially met. Regardless, there was something harried about the man's expression and Danny knew that he'd given the doctor a run for his money. He owed him an explanation.

"Dream ... nightmare," Danny whispered, feeling a bit foolish though no one suggested that might not be a good enough reason. In fact, it was the doctor who supplied additional credence by _not_ reacting at all. The man's expression eased and he nodded in understanding.

"You've been through a lot, Detective," the doctor said. "Anesthesia ... pain meds ... a nightmare or two are not unheard of. You're going to be fine, so try to get some rest now."

Danny nodded again, slightly appeased, fighting the need to close his eyes. Steve wasn't going to budge from his perch on the side of the bed and Danny looked at him now that the medical staff had begun to leave the room. His friend's eyes were still fraught with uncertainty and no small amount of concern. About to strangle the small cup of water, Steve seemed to be vibrating with pent-up energy; none of it good.

"A dream? Seriously?" Steve asked as the last nurse quietly left the room. He glanced over his shoulder to confirm she'd gone and then turned his full attention back to Danny. "Are you okay? Really?" By the look on his face, he remained doubtful of Danny's short explanation. But it was the truth and Steve could only frown when Danny nodded again.

"Yeah. Bad one ...," Danny replied in a whisper. "I'm okay ... now." His own voice was tinny in his ear, strained and small, leaving neither of them convinced. "It's ... gone already. At least ... mostly." He failed at smiling, incapable of stopping himself from glancing towards the chair which Steve had been sitting in.

It was a chair. Just a plan, ordinary recliner. No bad guy or gun in sight: dead or otherwise. Danny was faintly aware that Steve had followed his line of sight, too. Kindly though and despite being unconvinced, Steve didn't question anything more.

In the newfound quiet, the two regarded each other, long and hard. Steve swallowed, his gaze purposefully falling on Danny's injured arm. "Listen," he said. "This shouldn't have happened. On the trail? I wasn't paying attention ... and now this." He motioned towards Danny's arm and then helplessly looked around the hospital room as if he could validate his words.

"You should have let go, Danny," Steve said.

 _... letgoletgoletgo ..._

Danny cringed at the too-soon feeling of deja vu. _No_. But before he could answer, Steve was talking again. There was a new sense of anguish in his eyes and he hardly seemed able to look Danny in the face. "Why the hell didn't you let _go_? You could have ... died. Your arm ..."

"No ... no. Stop saying that," Danny finally said out loud as he stared upwards into Steve's face which had dared begun to blur again as the medication began its journey through his system. This wasn't the time to get into such a discussion and Danny rolled his head rather helplessly on the pillow able to ignore the duller ache in his neck. He had to force his eyes to stay open and his mouth to work to at least say a few words.

"You're kidding, right?" Danny asked, pleased when he also was able to communicate how ridiculous he felt Steve's question might be because he'd never _let go_ in any scenario that his beleaguered mind could come up with. "Steve?" He added softly when Steve sighed, his exasperation and worry tantamount. "It was an _accident_."

"Shouldn't have happened," Steve muttered under his breath and Danny smirked as his eyelids dipped closed. _He wouldn't argue that one._ It shouldn't have happened but it had - and nonetheless, Danny would maintain one particular truth even as he fought to stay awake for these last few minutes. He was tired, heavily medicated and when he tried to clench the pudgy, swollen fingers of his right hand, the heavy ache was still there.

No it shouldn't have happened, but that was the very definition of an _accident_ , wasn't it?

Though down to a much duller roar, his arm throbbed in time to his heartbeat from his shoulder to his fingertips. He lacked the strength to argue and neither of them had the room for blame. Blinking through a haze which began to blur Steve's features into a pale nondescript canvas, voice failing him, Danny hoped that Steve would hear him. He hoped that Steve would believe him.

"It was an accident," Danny whispered into the air as his eyes fluttered closed.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	46. Chapter 46 - Penchant Part 5

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **Notes:** _sorry for the delay - derailed muse = derailed final chapter and just not enough time in a week. My thanks to Phoebe and Swifters for multiple bunny beatings ... and to JazzieG for a comment that then was so nicely interspersed into this last chapter._

 _So here it is: I hope this final chapter makes sense and delivers a nice wrap-up. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews._

 **Chapter 5**

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

Danny sat in the adirondack chair trying to convince himself that he was staying at Steve's - and not even bringing up the concept of leaving - not _because_ he needed help, but because Steve _needed_ to help him more. He kept coming back full circle though. It was little bit of both, wasn't it? With his right arm out of commission for the next few days; nearly two weeks. He _did_ need help. But Danny smiled to himself as he stared out at the water which was cast a pretty mauve color by the sunset. For Steve it was more than that.

 _"Come on Danno," Steve had said in the hospital room just two days earlier. He'd been pacing nearly nonstop. More frenetically than usual. Desperate for Danny to hear him out and to say yes to his idea._

 _"I want to do this for you ...oh hell!" Flustered and oddly more upset than Danny had assumed Steve might be, his friend had then literally scrubbed both hands through his hair._

 _"Listen. Getting you shot warrants an apology, right? So what the hell am I supposed to do about this, huh? Just a day ... at least the first night since you're on pretty strong meds. You can't even wash up properly. ..."_

Danny remembered his mouth falling open and wanting to object. He didn't know why Steve was blaming himself for the accident. Danny clearly remembered him trying to backpedal to a stop before skidding over the slick ground. Steve might have momentarily gotten ahead of himself on the tight trail, but he certainly hadn't meant to follow their perp to that extent. Danny _knew_ that.

He couldn't remember if he'd said a single word though. Steve hadn't given him a chance. He'd at least nodded somewhere along the line, giving in to his partner's stronger penchant to help him: to contrive some way to apologize for something that wasn't his fault. Steve had insisted and Danny might have failed at talking, but he'd agreed. Apparently Danny had done that much because Steve's exultant smile had been fairly beaming with relief. He'd then eagerly shuttled Danny to his place and then helped him wash the medicinal stink of the hospital out of nose without getting his arm wet. Helped him - _more like forced him_ \- to eat a few bites of food and then happily shoe-horned him into the spare bed for a _nap_.

Danny didn't take naps. _Ever_. But he had on day one and then again on day two. God help him, he'd even taken a two-hour nap after lunch that very afternoon and for some reason, his eyes were closing again. So now, on the cusp of the third night, Danny was sitting quietly in the shade of the house, watching the sun set over the waves and still not making a fuss about leaving.

Nonetheless, he should be begging off the molly-coddling. He was just being lazy. Surely Steve's self-inflicted period of penance was paid up in full and now Danny was probably taking advantage of the situation. He should be insisting that Steve take him home so Steve could have his house back and so that things could return to normal. Danny figured that he'd be just fine and perfectly able to cope with one arm in a sling. A little awkward, sure. But no big deal. The thing was, as his eyes began to dip closed again and he yawned so big that his jaw practically cracked, Danny just didn't feel like moving an inch. Instead, protecting his injured arm with his left hand at the elbow, Danny levered himself a bit more sideways to take some pressure off his sore neck.

He groaned under his breath. He needed to get up and go to the house. He was starting to hurt because he was due for meds and ...

"Here. You're due for your meds," Steve announced as he suddenly appeared by his right shoulder. Danny blinked, startled by Steve's silent arrival, as well as by the perfect timing of the delivery of said medication.

"Incredible," Danny hummed under his breath, his lips tilting into a lop-sided grin. Without looking, Danny reached up for Steve to drop the two small white pills into the palm of his left hand. The glass of water was in front of his nose the second he'd popped the pills into his mouth. He might not be looking directly at Steve, but Steve was certainly watching both him and the clock like a hawk.

"You look sore," Steve said as he tapped his watch with his forefinger, validating Danny's thoughts. "You need 'em ... stay on schedule."

Danny wondered if someone could 'look sore' just sitting in a chair. But he apparently looked uncomfortable enough for Steve to just come out and say that. So he didn't question it as he thanked his partner for the timely dose. He _was_ sore and he _did_ need to stay ahead of what could become a terrible, heated throbbing from the base of his skull and down through both shoulder blades. A deep ache that could refuse to let up for hours on end.

"Thanks," Danny said, meaning it as a rumble of pain arced from his tricep down to his wrist. He hissed softly under his breath while flexing his fingers. He might have missed some significant nerve damage, but the unexpected twinges were sometimes hot and sharp. Mind boggling, really.

"No problem," Steve replied as he turned towards the ocean. Even if he looked impassive, Steve had blatantly seen the spasm. He rarely missed anything at all. Steve was clearly pleased with his ongoing intervention and Danny shook his head helplessly while eyeing his partner's profile.

"I should, uh, really pack up," Danny forced himself to say. "Go home ... " He glanced up at Steve, wincing through the subtle pull. Even if he'd meant what he'd just said, he'd have lost any battle. Steve stood there. An immovable force of one against what, Danny had no clue; not even bothering to swing back to look at Danny as he squared his shoulders. The Commander in Steve was in full view right then and Danny wasn't going anywhere.

"Nah, it's almost dark," Steve said out loud. "There's no problem with you hanging out for another day." He had his hands on his hips now as he gazed out over the Pacific. The sun was nearly halfway down, sinking lower on the horizon with every passing second. Pink had become splashed by a blackish-stain of dark red down its center and a soft glimmer of light kept Steve's face just visible enough.

"Fine," Danny murmured. _Another day?_ He sighed heavily, half annoyed with himself for not insisting and partly with Steve for being so officious. What was the point though? It was late and he was still bone-tired; the medication would only make him more-so. Maybe now was the time though for him to bring up the very delicate subject they'd been afraid to discuss.

"Steve?" Danny said softly. "It was an accident. You know that right?"

"I did at one time," Steve responded just as quietly. "At the hospital ... I thought what had happened had been an accident and wondered if you'd ever believe me."

Danny snorted through his nose. "Seriously? Did you hear what I just said?" Danny asked. "I'm telling you - agreeing with you." Here he was finally admitted that something wasn't his partner's fault and Steve wasn't all over him, gleefully taking advantage of what he'd just said. He struggled to his feet, slightly hunched over due to muscles that were incredibly tight.

"Sit down, Danny," Steve said as he quickly swung towards him. "You're supposed to be taking it easy ..." But Danny shook his head as he poked Steve in the arm. Nope, now was the time to get this over with whether he stayed another day, or not.

"It was an _accident,"_ Danny said before grinning almost wickedly. "One that I could have avoided by ever meeting ... well ... _you_ for instance ... on this pineapple infested hell-hole." He snorted again through his nose because that was true, too, in a weird, crazy sort of way. Steve didn't laugh though. In fact, he didn't even take the bait.

"It was a stupid, stupid move on my part," Steve said, clearly focused on Danny's injury.

"Really? My meeting you ... all those years ago was ... stupid?" Danny smirked tiredly, trying to ease the mood and moderately pleased when Steve's face darkened despite the playful delivery of Danny's comments.

"No, not that!' Steve amended in frustration. He scrubbed hard at his face and Danny bit his lip to stop from grinning even more because that would be unfair and their conversation was a serious one. Smothering his wont to smile, he waited instead for Steve to gather his thoughts.

"This shouldn't have happened. I wasn't paying attention ... on the trail."

"I know," Danny said in all honesty. "I do ... I _know_. Aren't you listening to what I'm saying? How many times do I have to say that I know that, huh?"

"You know _what_ exactly?" Steve asked, refusing to give in entirely to Danny's easier conclusions; an odd thing and nearly a role reversal for the two of them in any of their discussions. Danny was beginning to wonder if that wasn't the problem all unto itself. "That I'm stupid? That this shouldn't have happened ... or that I wasn't aware of ... _you_."

"All of the above," Danny noted rather lamely, earning another dark unhappy look from his partner. "Yeah, I _know_ all of that, too, but I also know that you tried to stop." He sighed, taking a minute to gather his own thoughts because he was feeling tired again and the circular discussion was exhausting. He was losing steam. "I was behind you ... remember? I was _behind_ you ... I _saw_ you ... it was too late for you to stop, but I _saw_ you try ... "

"Why didn't you at least stop then?" Steve hissed out softly between his teeth. "If you saw what was going to happen ... why didn't you _stop_?"

"Why didn't I stop?" Danny was taken aback for a minute. He'd never considered _stopping_. Not once. The question was what? Stupid? How could he have stopped, too? He'd seen Steve hurtle the fence and then try to stop his momentum at the last minute. He'd seen Steve's shocked expression as he tried to windmill to a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching _stop_ on one hip.

Without even thinking Danny had followed in Steve's footsteps with one specific goal in mind: to grab his partner before it was too late.

"I'm losing count of how many times you've almost died in front of me and I'll never let it happen if I can help it," Danny said with a weary sigh. He closed his eyes, breathing in the night air as he tried to clear his head. The setting sun and the dusky twilight weren't helping things and he had to blink furiously to force himself to center.

"Let's go in," Steve said. "You need to get off your feet."

"Stop telling me what to do," Danny complained without any heat. Steve already had a hold of his good arm and was turning him gently towards the house. Danny went along willingly enough. But he'd be damned if he'd stop talking entirely.

"Steven ..."

"No listen. I'm sorry," Steve said. "I mean it - I made a mistake ... I did but, I still say you should have stopped if you saw what was going to happen ... and you _definitely_ should have let go!"

"No! Nope," Danny replied. He pulled out of Steve's grip, forcing him to hesitate. "Do you have a mental block? Do you prefer what could have happened? Because I sure as hell don't." He dug his heels in as they made the lanai. The lights weren't on in the house yet and it was just as dark here on the lanai as on the beach. Danny could hardly see Steve's' face. He could see enough though.

"I'll never let go when it matters, Steven, because I can't deal with the alternative. Could you?" He looked at Steve, daring him to say otherwise. "If it was me ... could you?" He stood there waiting for Steve to realize he wasn't speaking in the past tense anymore and that any other action yielding some other outcome would be wholly unacceptable for either one of them. "Someone's gotta save _you_ from you," he added. "Including in my nightmares and even in those, I'm _not_ sorry. So every damned time you think you're going to break that fool neck of yours, just know that I'm going to be in your damned back-pocket. If you're so worried about me now doing that and being right there with you, then maybe that knowledge will slow you down later - that way you won't have to apologize so much for nearly getting me killed."

Steve shook his head. "This is too easy," he said. " _Maybe_. I'm missing something ... you _never_ move on ... ever. From anything."

"Let's just say that after all of these years, I've finally accepted a few things about you. And now, you're just going to have to accept a few things about me," Danny said. He raised an eyebrow but Steve only frowned more and Danny rolled his eyes. "I accept your stupid penchant for getting _me_ into trouble. So now it's your turn."

"My turn for what? But ... I didn't ... I don't ...," Steve stammered. He closed his mouth when Danny raised that singular eyebrow again and then cocked his head just a bit to the right. Steve narrowed his eyes, thinking so hard that Danny could almost see the wheels turning inside his head.

"Seriously? You don't get it - _seriously_? How many times do I have to repeat myself? I'm never letting go," Danny repeated stubbornly. "I won't stay back ... I'm not going to leave you when ..."

"Okay, okay," Steve said helplessly. "All right! I get it ...and you're right. You win."

Danny smirked, making sure that Steve saw his reaction. "Oh come on, Danny!" Steve blurted in surprise as he accidentally was bested through his own admission.

"Always," Danny replied lightly, smiling as Steve rolled his eyes towards the heavens.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	47. Chapter 47 - Recoil

I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

 **Notes** : _2nd chapter is not done; but posting anyway ... bear with me on this one! I'm trying to smack the muse into shape after an annoying uncreative lull._

 _Typical disclamers apply: not beta'd, not a doctor, etc._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Recoil**_. to draw back; start or shrink back, as in alarm, horror, or disgust.

Just as he pushed the pain to the side, Steve blatantly ignored his partner as he hovered around him, his fingers annoyingly nipping at the bit of Steve's shirt just peeking out from under his tac-vest. After taking a few unexpected hits to his vest, Danny was only making matters worse for Steve. With a fiery ache in his lower back, prickles of pain shooting up and down the backs of his legs, it was hard enough for Steve to stay perfectly focused on the dangerous man in front of him while keeping his rifle just as unerringly trained on the guy's chest.

"Daniel," Steve ground out between clenched teeth.

"Shut it!" Danny spat back as he almost too roughly tweaked at the hem of Steve's tee-shirt. Hissing as he inadvertently clenched a bruised muscle, Steve still tried to shirk away from Danny's too greedy fingers, grimacing as a painful heat circled like a molten bar of lead round to his lower back. Breathless from the pain, it all only spurred on his anger and quite frankly, Steve was bordering more on furious.

"Leave off," Steve muttered back as he glanced at Danny, eyes narrowing when he heard Danny tell him to ' _shut up_ ' under his breath. Though it was fast since his partner was on the move, Steve caught a glimpse of tight lips and an angry flash of a blue eye. So Danny was mad, too. Of course he was.

 _Fine_.

Steve took a split second to glare at the back of Danny's head while his partner continued to shout orders over his comm link. Of _course_ Danny would be pissed as hell at him for getting shot. Vest or not, Steve probably had done something to screw up the William's rule book of proper police protocol and etiquette. But he'd been the one who'd been shot and quite frankly, Steve didn't care one iota if Danny was as mad as a hornet right then; he'd deal with all of that later because he was mad too after taking two hits to his tac-vest.

"You're under arrest," Steve said. He cleared his throat and paused, momentarily at a loss for words. Oddly wondering if he'd already stated that even when Loomis's lips twitched upwards as if to smile at him. It caught Steve by surprise and he had to shake himself out of dizzying sense of vertigo. The man was arrogant regardless and forcing himself to focus, Steve stepped forward aggressively. He was pleased when Loomis visibly flinched, that threat of a smile fading just as quickly to a look of fear.

"On the ground ... on your stomach!" Nearly failing at fighting his lungs' desire to not cooperate and make him sound breathless, at least his hands were steady and his coordination on track as he grabbed Michael Loomis's shirt to tug him roughly forward. The felon was taking too long to listen and right then, Steve definitely lacked patience for the evil likes of Loomis.

"Are you deaf? _Now_. Hook your ankles. Hands behind your back!" With another deft movement that unfortunately also brought a flash of disconcerting stars to his eyes, Steve sent Michael Loomis to the pavement, the muzzle of his gun an unyielding added incentive for Loomis to stay down. Behind him, Steve sensed Danny before he saw him lunge forward to add insult to Steve's demands by kneeing Loomis in the small of his back.

"I think you _must_ be deaf," Danny said when Loomis squirmed under his weight. "But I bet you damned well will listen up when your sentence is read. _Yeah_? Life? No parole? I bet that will make an impact." Within seconds, Loomis's wrists were securely zip-tied behind his back even as Danny continued to chattering incessantly into his comm link.

"Loomis is in custody," Danny was saying, providing Steve an headache-inducing stereophonic echo as he heard Danny's voice through his own earpiece. "I need two units and a bus ... back of Ralston and Crescent. Side alley." He paused and then asked another question, one that kept Steve on edge.

"Does anyone have eyes on Martin?"

 _"We do ...,"_ Grover's voice. _"Convenience mart ... half a block over on Ralston."_

When Danny intentionally used Loomis's body as leverage to get to his feet, Steve sneered as the felon grunted in pain. No doubt his back and maybe even his chest felt as good as Steve's as Danny ground his knee into the man's spine.

"Bus is three minutes out," Danny said, not needing to state the obvious about more back-up when two HPD units appeared as if by divine intervention at the top of the alley. "Lou's got Martin in hand and our immediate perimeter's secure so HPD will take this joker in."

"Good," Steve said as he backed away, lowering his weapon when the the two pair of uniformed officers reached his side. "Take him. Book him ... I want a full detail on h im at all times. Okay, Danno ... let's go help Lou."

Steve nearly missed the flare of anger that flew across Danny's face when a deep throbbing ache in his lower back caught him off guard. He stumbled in reaction, losing his balance when his vision briefly whited out, his feet shuffling forward as the ground seemed to roll hard to the left.

"Yeah, no. That's not gonna happen," Danny said as he grabbed for Steve's arm only to forcibly pilot him towards the closest place to sit which wound up being an old stack of wooden skids.

"What the hell's your problem?" Steve grumbled, slapping at Danny's hands when he began to ruck up his shirt while simultaneously rip the Velcro off the ties of his tac-vest.

White-lipped, Danny held up two fingers. Inches from Steve's nose, the tips were smeared bright red and Steve's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Who do you think that bus is for?" Danny asked. "Huh? Who?"

Steve blinked as he looked from Danny's blood-stained fingers, to his face, his eyes widening more. "You got hit?" He asked incredulously as Danny merely shook his head while persisting in getting Steve's vest off his torso.

"Danno? You're hit? How bad?" Steve kept asking even as Danny gently poked at the already livid bruises marking Steve's rib cage. "Danno?" When had all of this happened? Worried when Danny didn't answer him right away, Steve tried to stand up, wanting to check his partner out to see where Danny had been injured. And check out just how bad ... how badly had Danny been shot? Maybe not too badly if he was still on his feet even if Danny did look a bit pale.

"Danny ... what the hell ...?"

"No, you idiot," Danny said as he simultaneously forced Steve backwards to stay seated. "Sit down! It's not me!" Muttering under his breath, Danny went back to pressing his hand firmly to Steve's side, just above his left hip. It hurt and Steve garbled out a cough, glancing down at Danny's reddening fingers, completely perplexed.

"What?" Steve coughed out as he watched a sluggishly moving stream of blood dribble between Danny's fingers.

" _What_ he says," Danny grumbled sounding exasperated as he glared into Steve's eyes, daring him to argue any point as Steve finally ... _finally_ ...recoiled in pain and his brain slowly kicked in to provide the facts he'd been missing.

"Is that mine?" Steve coughed again, still reluctant to believe it. Very much bewildered when Danny rolled his eyes towards the brilliant blue of the sky.

When Danny spoke next, his voice was tight with either anger or worry; Steve couldn't quite figure it out which one because Danny's face was beginning to swim eerily in front of him. "Yes, Steven. This is _yours_. You got shot and just to make everything a bit more clearer for you, the damned bus is for you, too!"

Steve moved his mouth to object because this wasn't possible. Sure, he'd taken a shot or two to the vest, but Loomis had missed skin. Yet, the evidence was right there pooling between Danny's rather belligerent fingers. Come to think of it, who knew fingers could be so belligerent? Steve thought to himself as Danny began to chatter authoritatively into his comm link.

As he watched Danny talk, missing almost all the words and mesmerized by the glint of blond that was shining far too brightly in the sun, Steve began to smile.

"Steve? What're you doing, _huh_? Why the hell are you _smiling_ \- this isn't funny at all!"

He heard the questions and decided that Danny wasn't as mad as much as worried. But Steve was fine. Perfectly fine and besides, he felt like smiling.

" _Hmm_?" Steve murmured as he slowly tried to focus on Danny's face. Danny's eyes were dark ovals on a pale canvas and still, Steve kept smiling. It was a lazy, loopy smile. Possibly even a tired one and Steve's eyes began to dip shut despite the way his partner was starting to shout at him because now ... now? With the sun on his back and his body starting an inglorious sway to the side, Steve just didn't care to think so hard.

 _ **~ to be continued ~**_


	48. Chapter 48 - Recoil Part 2

I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

 **Notes** : The bunny was offered chocolate, cookies and ' _oh so much_ ' to post faster. Thank you for all of that! But the bunny has been evil and non-productive of late. Still, I'm thrilled you are all liking this little word of the day diversion. My thanks to Phoebe for an impromptu run through and sanity check!

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 _ **Word of the Day: Recoil**_. to draw back; start or shrink back, as in alarm, horror, or disgust.

Steve was floating and he felt rather ... his brain paused mid-flight and he struggled, trying to come up with a word. Beyond the heavy thickness clouding his head, he couldn't figure out how he really felt. So Steve failed badly. Because he was floating without pain, he probably should have been relieved and yet, this half-deadened state wasn't something he was willing to accept. Incapable of collecting a single thought as he tried to fight through a heavy sedation, he struggled harder, pushing himself almost ruthlessly into consciousness with a loud gasp and eyes overly widened by the severity of the pain he instantly caused himself.

"Whoa! Easy! Come on ... _hey, hey_ ... Steve! Take it easy! You're going to hurt yourself ... _again_!"

Startled and confused, Steve stared blankly into Danny's face, breathing hard and refusing to give up his fight no matter how his chest ached. Leaving his partner with no option but to grapple tenaciously with his flailing fists, Steve was aware enough to recognize Danny and to know that he had an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. It wasn't enough though. Each breath he took seemed too short, too quick and far too shallow. The sensation of drowning prompted him to fight harder and the resulting knee-jerk reaction was two-fold: to get Danny off him and to yank the over sized oxygen mask from his face. No matter what he thought wanted though, Danny wasn't about to give in either.

"No! Leave it and stay down. What're you trying to do? Scare me half to death today?" Danny said, practically rambling as he simultaneously intercepted Steve's right hand and managed to keep his shoulders pinned to the bed. "You need that ... keep it on. Jesus, can't you even wake up like a normal human being?"

" _H'ppnd_?" Steve tried to ask, slurring his words badly while still trying to argue his point by pulling out of Danny's firm grip to go for the oxygen mask. " _D'nno ... l'go_." He wanted the oxygen mask off - _needed it off_ since it wasn't doing a damned thing - and most of all, he wanted to get _up_ but Danny refused to loosen his hold.

"Steven ... focus," Danny chanted. "Focus and calm down. You're in the hospital and you need to calm the hell down before I _tell_ them to sedate your ass!"

" _L'mme_ up," Steve insisted, more confused than ever when his partner merely clung tighter to his forearms when he continually tried to get up.

"Sorry, no can do," Danny said, truly not at all sorry by the stern tilt of his head or the bluntness of his tone. Steve scowled in annoyance, trying to get his act together and mostly failed at doing that, too. "Look at me and calm down ... it's me. You're okay. Steve? I'm not letting go until you calm the hell down!"

"Know it's you," Steve complained weakly as he forced himself to oblige Danny's demands. Breathlessness accompanied by a deep muscular ache finally won out over his obstinacy and Steve wound up slumping limply back to the hospital bed. Glassy-eyed, he blinked back reactive tears as the intensity of the pain dwindled, his muscles eventually lax enough under Danny's hands for him to at least ease up on his tight grip.

"Thank you," Danny said. He made a face as he studied Steve from top to bottom. "How're you feeling? Doc said that you should be comfortable for the amount of pain meds he's got pumped into you. But he probably has _good_ patients in mind - not the kind who wake up swinging."

 _"D'ctr? H'sptl_?" Steve repeated the obvious, completely perplexed not only by his circumstances, but also by his inability to speak well. He pursed his lips when Danny rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Ya think? What gave it away? Huh?" Danny replied, his sarcasm a good clue to how upset he was and Steve's frown deepened as he tried to remember exactly what had happened.

" _H'ppened_?" He touched his chest tentatively. Everything felt tender; even breathing was hard from the inside out. "Cn't breathe," Steve said next as his voice dwindled to practically nothing.

"You _can_ breathe ... you can. Just try to relax and not talk so much, okay?"

"Yeah," Steve murmured. Shakily and under Danny's overly watchful eye, he rubbed his hand through his hair, investigating the outline of the oxygen mask on the way back down. Tight-fitting, this mask was definitely different from a more traditional one. With no choice but to give into his body's needs, Steve realized that he could feel the gentle flow of air now as he shallowly inhaled and exhaled. He wanted more but a thick band inside his chest warned him off from trying to take a deeper lungful of air. He was okay and not going to suffocate, nevertheless, Steve felt sick and nauseous. Just moving his arm made his chest feel even tighter, heavier. Instead of trying to speak, Steve focused on his partner, his confused expression enough permission for Danny to offer him an explanation because he didn't recall being hurt - at least not like this.

"You're going to be here a few days," Danny said, grinning not too unkindly when Steve raised both eyebrows in surprised askance. "Scared the crap out of me, Steve. You have no idea ... you just flat out keeled over ... " His voice trailed off as did his grin, his eyes giving away just how tired and worried he truly was.

" _H'bad_?" Steve whispered. He thought back remembering a sketchy picture of his own blood on Danny's fingertips. Maybe he'd almost bled out or maybe, with the trouble he was experiencing with breathing, the bullet which had sneaked in just under his vest had lodged in a lung ... or some other organ. At that thought, Steve grimaced uncomfortably nearly afraid to look at Danny in the eye if he'd gotten his liver damaged. Unconsciously, he ran his fingers over his chest, skirting over the surgical scar, chancing a glance at his partner through his lashes.

"The bullet that you took under your vest didn't do too much damage," Danny explained quietly and Steve found the nerve to really look up again, but now it was Danny who was looking away. "Stupid really. A fluke that it got you just beneath the vest line." In fact, Danny was studying the floor as he continued to speak. "Your liver's fine, too. Thank God for that." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly looking far more than just a little bit tired. As Steve studied Danny's bowed head, he noticed just how worn down Danny really was from worry and stress.

"Danny?" Steve asked, his fingers now draped cautiously over a shared scar which was still sensitive both physically and emotionally. Yet underneath his and no matter what Danny had just stated, Steve's half of a precious whole was now possibly marred by another injury and he winced as his breathing hitched despite the oxygen mask's gentle help.

"No, don't talk," Danny interrupted him quickly, his eyes now boring into Steve's. "Your liver's fine. I swear it is. What did a number on you were the two slugs which hit near center-mass. Your chest wall and your left lung are bruised ... the doctors are calling the damage to your lung a pulmonary contusion," he explained. "You should be fine ... _should be_ ... if you listen to medical advice. And you _will_ listen because I've already told the doctors you're not the most ideal of patients." He gestured to Steve's face, towards the oxygen mask, his expression now pensive.

"That thing is supposed to help you breathe better by taking the strain off your lung. It stays until further notice. You're to keep talking to a bare minimum and rest ... and I mean _rest_ ... for a good few days!"

" _M'lung_?" Steve whispered. He blinked still not sure what to think about that bit of news. His lung was bruised? He nodded slowly as the information began to make sense to his tired mind. He'd taken shots just like this before. Probably too many to count and he'd been bruised badly enough during those times; he'd just not experienced something which was apparently this extreme. As he lay there more calmly, the pain eventually even vanished. So like Danny had also told him, he was on a strong pain medication. He sensed he should be happy about that bit of news, but the meds were already wreaking havoc on other things. For one, his brain simply didn't want to fire on all cylinders and now his eyes were beginning to flutter. Annoyed, Steve grunted under his breath, disgusted with his body's level of injury and overall feeling of fatigue.

" ... and chest wall. Your liver's fine ... it's okay," Danny repeated again as if he also needed to reassure himself of that fact. Even with his thoughts becoming lazier, Steve didn't doubt at all that his partner had been obsessing over his injuries. Danny probably had been harping from the moment Loomis had managed to take what Steve considered a few very lucky pot-shots.

 _"H'lng?_ " Steve mouthed as he fought his eyes' desire to close. He breathed carefully in and then pushed the air gently out of his mouth, fogging the mask. Eyes just opened, he gestured around the room to compound the question. He'd slurred the two simple words to an almost indecipherable level and wasn't sure that even Danny could figure out the question until his friend nodded.

"How long have you been out?" Danny snorted through his nose in mock amusement, vainly trying to find some humor in what he was about to say. "You've been out for the count for about six hours. Every single test has been run on you that the doctors could think of and from what I see, you're in really good hands. But, you're going to be here in the hospital for about a week, Steve. And if you dare try to argue that point? I'll knock you out myself!"

"Six ... _hours_?" Steve murmured, stunned by the time-frame until his brain digested the implications of the latter part of what Danny had just said. Wait? _A week?_ A full seven day stay in a hospital? Steve scowled unhappily, his lips firm under the oxygen mask, his eyes catching Danny's and holding.

"Not up for discussion. Seven days," Danny correctly interpreted Steve's thoughts and expression without losing a beat, adding a coy quirk of an eyebrow to prove he could indeed read Steve's mind. "Seven very quiet ... non-talking ... fully restful... _days_. If you don't listen to your fine doctors' advice, then it could get much worse."

Steve's scowl increased exponentially and yet Danny only shrugged which meant that Steve wasn't going to get any sympathy at all from his stalwart partner. Whatever 'much worse' meant, Danny had bought the doctors' prognosis hook, line and sinker. Steve narrowed his tired eyes, risking them sliding shut as they dared dipped dangerously south. He'd have to have a discussion with these fine doctors once he was feeling up to it.

Seven days for an ex-Navy SEAL was unheard of. He'd have to find out which doctor to talk to first ...

... plead his own case

... ensure that whomever this fine doctor was, that he understood Steve couldn't remain hospital-bound for a full week.

... No, that just wouldn't work ... No ... _Nope_ ...

"Steven". He recoiled in surprise as Danny tapped his hand to get his attention. _When had his eyes closed?_

" _Hmm_? _Whu_?" Steve more gurgled than spoke any words as he re-focused on Danny's face. For a moment, his partner just glared down at him in silence, making Steve feel like he was under some high-powered microscope. Not only had Steve's eyes closed without him knowing, he's also dozed off and missed almost everything Danny had just said.

"I heard you. I'm awake ...," he insisted much to Danny's obvious disbelief. He swallowed hard as he forced his mouth to work properly in order to enunciate every word clearly. "I'm fine, Danno."

"Really? _I'm fine, Danno?_ Did you actually just say that to me and ... you _heard_ me? You can barely keep your eyes open!" Danny had the gall to chortle at him. A sarcastic-sound which made Steve wonder if he'd said anything out loud about talking to his doctors, but no Danny was just worried again. In fact, he was on the precipice of an all-out rant. "You're going to sleep but before you do, don't you even think of pulling that innocent crap with me! Don't even _think_ about what you're trying to plot when it comes to getting out of here faster, buddy!"

"Plot? Wasn't ...," Steve lied through teeth that were practically gritted as he fought to keep his eyes open. "No ... " But Steve's lips twitched upwards at the same time because Danny was slowly looking as if he might implode.

"Bullshit ... you were ... and _are_ ...," Danny said as he folded his arms tightly across his chest. "Are you smiling again?"

"N'uh. Nope," Steve tried to promise even though Danny was watching him like a hawk. His lips twitched again just before Steve gave in to his brief battle. "Wasn't ..."

"You are!" Danny shook his head helplessly as Steve lost himself to a grin, his eyes shining from a combination of fatigue and medication. The doctors would listen. Steve had his ways ...

...and means ... and immunity. Even from overly anxious, protective partners ... who meant well, but ...

and Steve's grin became an all-out loopy smile right before he let his eyes drift close.

"Steven!"

He fell asleep, still blatantly smiling while plotting his escape, all to the sound of Danny's voice. "Seven days, Steven! _Seven_ ... or so help me ... I'll cuff you to this bed myself!"

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	49. Chapter 49 - Incorrigible

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 _ **Note: a beautiful word to add to the collection!**_

 _ **Word of the Day: Incorrigible.** Bad beyond correction or reform. Impervious to constraints or punishment; willful; unruly; uncontrollable. Firmly fixed; not easily changed. Not easily swayed or influenced. Noun - a person who is incorrigible._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"My grandmother used that word all the time", Danny mumbled thickly. His tongue felt bigger than his mouth and he giggled about that before promptly frowning. That didn't make any sense, did it? How could his tongue be too big if he got all those words out? Besides, if his tongue was too big, it couldn't fit inside his mouth in the first place.

"What word?" Steve asked. He was listening even if he didn't look up. At least partially. Even if he was focused on a MacGyver-ed something or other off to the side. Balanced on his toes, crouched there, he almost looked like a shadowed gargoyle.

Danny's lips twitched upwards as he imagined Steve as a gargoyle. Gargoyle's were fantastical half-animals ... and Steve? Well, he was an animal by default and sometimes he could be fantastical, too. Or, he at least did fantastical things. Like now, when he was _Steve the Science Guy_ and Danny huffed an amused sound though his nose. He was loud enough to earn Steve's rapt attention for a prolonged minute or two.

"How are you holding up?" Steve asked. He rose to his feet in one smooth motion, completely ruining the silhouette. His tone said he was worried and for the life of him, Danny didn't know why _Steve_ would be worried. The bad guys were long gone by now and he was the one who'd been shot.

Wait a minute ... he'd been _shot_?

"I got shot?" Danny asked. He blinked, trying to adjust his vision as Steve came close, transfixed on Steve's face remembering that he hadn't merely been shot. "You shot me."

"Me?" Steve paused, eyebrow raised at Danny's announcement. "Where did you get that idea from?" He poked at Danny's leg, fixing something or other. "Hey, do you feel that?"

"Huh? What?" Danny forgot what Steve had just asked, distracted by an odd colored flame which burst up and then fizzled out. It left an aura-like impression on his retinas and he blinked wildly, unable to lose the image. He groaned and he closed his eyes, falling back down off his elbow. "I feel sick." His head hurt. That intense flare of color had only made everything worse.

"Danno. What word?" Steve pushed harder, his tone demanding an answer. He sounded worried all over again and also much farther away.

"What?" Danny asked, already forgetting his own comment. He squinted up expecting to see Steve, but he wasn't by his side anymore. Danny squinted harder still, finally realizing that Steve was back to crouching over the fire. That also became distracting because just _when_ had they built a _fire_?

"Ummm? I don't know ... what _what_?"

"What _word,"_ Steve repeated patiently. "You were in the middle of saying something to me." He stopped doing whatever it was he'd been working on, still incredibly balanced in that half-crouch. "What word did your grandmother always use?"

"My grandmother?" Danny scrunched his face. "Word?" Why-ever would he have brought her up? And for the life of him, at that very minute, he couldn't recall a single noteworthy thing she might have said.

"Yeah, never mind," Steve soothed. But he was scrunching his face up in confusion exactly like Danny had just done. "It's not important."

"'course it is. It's my grandmother," Danny objected without having a leg to stand on. _A leg._ He paused and then stared at Steve. "What about my leg?"

"I didn't say anything about your leg," Steve said. "But I do need to take care of it to stop the bleeding."

"Did you shoot me?" Danny asked.

"Not exactly," Steve replied.

"But ... I got shot," Danny said. He poked his finger into the air in Steve's general direction. "And you did it. You."

"No, not exactly."

"If I got shot and it's your bullet in my leg, from your gun," Danny reasoned. "And ... no one else is here ...which means you were holding said weapon when it happened." He looked around for import, his vision a bit blurry but nonetheless able to confirm they were indeed alone.

"Then it stands to reason that you shot me."

"It was a ricochet."

"From your gun!"

"The details are important, Daniel!"

"You shot me Steven!"

"Not on purpose!" Steve glared over at him, his jaw working hard as if he might say something he'd regret later. "Never mind."

"What?" Danny asked, grinning despite Steve's darkened expression. "Why?"

"You know what? It's you," Steve spat out. "You're the word that you said your grandmother used so much. She must have used it on you. All. The. Time."

"Huh?" Danny asked. He was confused now and he scrunched up his nose again and very much like Charlie did when he was equally confused about something. "Who?"

"Your grandmother. She of the most excellent Italian recipes," Steve said as he waved his knife through the air before pointing it at Danny. " _Incorrigible_. You my friend, are everything she said!"

Danny smiled happily as he considered his grandmother. He liked that idea. "Thank you," Danny said. "I was her favorite."

"Oh my god. It's not a compliment, Danny!" Steve griped back uselessly. He shoved the knife into the middle of the fire he'd made, twisting it this way and that, setting off a flurry of disorienting sparks into the night air. Then he held up the gleaming red-hot blade between them before getting to his feet. On his way back to Danny's side, he bent down and picked up a stick from the ground.

That was ... _odd_ ... and Danny lost his happy smile. He looked from the gleaming hot blade to the small stick, then back to Steve's face.

"What's all that for?" Danny asked, leery of what was coming next when Steve hovered over him.

"Open wide," Steve said a moment before - much to Danny's surprise - he shoved the small stick between his teeth. "Don't drop it ... you're going to need it. This is going to hurt ... _a lot._ "

 _ **~ End. ~**_


	50. Chapter 50 - Incorrigible Part 2

**I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

 _ **Note:** yeah yeah okay. So you-all got a 2nd part - you are ALL bad because I need to practice one shots and short shorts! Plus, I got that 23+ chapter one in progress right now too and this was to be a minor distraction ... _

_This is called "enablement" folks ... :-)_

 _ **Word of the Day: Incorrigible.**_ _Bad beyond correction or reform. Impervious to constraints or punishment; willful; unruly; uncontrollable. Firmly fixed; not easily changed. Not easily swayed or influenced. Noun - a person who is incorrigible._

 **H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

"I hate you."

"I know you do. But it's okay."

"It's o - _okay_? It's okay that I h-hate you?" The stuttered words accompanied by an overly medicated laugh sounded one step shy of manic. Glancing up from his newspaper to look at his partner's still far too ashen face, Steve couldn't help but grin.

"Yup," he said, still smiling but hiding now behind the sports section. Not that Danny would remember any of this conversation. Nevertheless, it was best to keep things simple even if Danny was currently refusing to let anything go. _Anything_ at all from the impossible color of his jello cup to the confetti-like dots on his hospital gown ... to insisting to anyone that would listen, that Steve had shot him and then ...

"You shot me and then ... _then_ you burned my leg off."  That. Steve rustled his newspaper to hide his chuckle.

"I didn't shoot you, Danny. It was a ricochet ...," Steve reiterated. "An _accident_ which could have happened to anybody."

"No. Not anybody," Danny interrupted. " _Me."_ He waved an idle hand in Steve's direction. " _Just me_ ... because _you_ are my accident." _  
_

"I'm your accident?" Steve barely bit back his laugh. "Danny, that doesn't make any sense!"

"Yes! You're my accident," Danny insisted. "My accident in life ..." He gestured now to his elevated and bandaged thigh. "Look what you did. Shooting me wasn't good enough ... you had to go and burn my damned leg off."

"I only cauterized the wound, Danny. Your leg is still attached; it's right there. Trust me."

"What? Trust you?" The manic laugh was back but it ended abruptly when Danny began to cough. Dry and raspy, it was leaving him painfully breathless and Steve was up in a flash, his newspaper forgotten as it fell to the floor.

"Hey, hey. Here," Steve soothed as he held the small cup and put the straw to Danny's mouth. "Drink this ...it's just water."

"Thanks," Danny said after he took a few steady sips. He swallowed hard, his eyes glassier in a colorless face. He looked downright terrible and Steve still held some residual doubt and worry even if he'd been reassured time and again that his partner was going to be fine. It was the reason behind Steve's reluctance to leave the hospital just yet, too.

"Better?" Steve asked. He put the cup to the side with a heavy sigh, fighting the want to scrub hard at his face. It had been one hell-uva long day.

"Yeah," Danny whispered. "Thanks."

"No problem, Danno. Why don't you try to sleep now, huh?"

He blinked lazily, failing at focusing on Steve's face. He sounded exhausted after the coughing jag, his voice thin and wispy. Of course he would be weak, too. If Steve hadn't acted so quickly to cauterize the gunshot wound, Danny very likely would have bled out before the chopper had arrived. Or, even en route. It could have happened en route to the hospital ... Danny would have crashed mid-flight according to one of his doctors. He never would have made it. Steve would have lost him if he hadn't acted so very quickly.

"A-and my answer to you is never." Danny's voice was more faint and Steve found himself needing to lean closer to understand his words.

"Never what?" Steve asked before he could stop himself. At a time like this, he needed to keep his own mouth shut and not encourage hs partner to _talk_.

"Trust you. I'm never going to trust you again. Like ... ever."

"Okay. That's fine, too," Steve said. He shook his head, exasperated and one by one began to stow his doubts. He didn't need the doctors to reassure him that Danny would be fine. All Steve had to do was really _listen_ to him.

"And .. and I hate you."

"Yup. I know," Steve agreed, smiling again as he gently tried to brush back a few fine strands of Danny's hair from his forehead. He swiped at the bits of hair, which were as stubborn as their owner. They stayed stuck there though, dampened by sweat brought on by pain and fever.

"Stupid. I hate you so much," Danny murmured as his eyes began to close in earnest and Steve chuckled a happy sound. Good old grandma Williams had it right. Her grandson was incorrigible - as stubbornly obstinate as the day was long. Stubborn was why his partner was still with him though and Steve loved him for it. Sheer grit and tenacity had prompted Danny to fasten his own tourniquet. He'd kept himself from bleeding out and taken down one of their attackers in the process.

The others had gotten away. But right then, that part was immaterial to Steve. His team was actively tracking who and how they'd been ambushed during what was supposed to have been a straight-forward meet with one of their regular snitches. They'd stumbled across the poor man's body just as all hell had broken loose. They'd been setup and then expertly separated one from the other. Stuck in a cross-fire, neither had much to work with in a fire-fight which had been short ... but violent.

"S'much ...," Danny slurred lazily. His lips twitched upwards and Steve's grin grew.

"It's okay, Danno. I love you, too, buddy," Steve said softly as Danny began to drift into a peaceful sleep. Danny's lips twitched once more, yet he didn't make a sound. Not a peep. But the stress in his face was lessening which meant he was finally giving in and for that, Steve was glad. The meds were strong and he'd lost a good deal of blood despite the tourniquet and Steve's fine efforts. He needed a great deal of sleep in order to heal and that was simply fine with Steve. In fact, Danny could _hate_ him all he wanted, too - to the moon and back again.

Steve could happily live with a hate like this, ad infinitum.

 _ **~ End. ~**_


End file.
